The Coveted Map
by Cayenne Pepper Powder
Summary: Jack Sparrow is on the run, a stolen map in his possession. The navy seeks his ship. A ruthless captain seeks his blood. And a woman is snared in the middle of an adventure she’s always dreamed of, but isn’t sure she wants.
1. Nightmares and Bad Luck

**Author's Notes: **Hello, hello! This is my second Pirate's fic, for those of you who don't know me, and I really hope you all like it. Or the first chapter of it, anyway ;)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean, its plot, characters, places, ect. Nor do I own the Caribbean (thought wouldn't that be nice…). I do, however, own all the original settings and characters you may stumble upon in this story. But that's all.

Read on!

٭

**The Sighted**

**Chapter 1**

Nightmares and Bad Luck

٭

Mabel shot up from her bed with a silent, strangled scream of terror.

She struggled weakly in the tangled confines of her sheets, ragged gasps tearing from her chapped lips. Her lungs, aching as though deprived for a lengthy time, expanded gratefully as copious amounts of air was forced down her windpipe and into her chest. Her fingers curled themselves tightly into the soft covers, muscles tensed. Her whole body heaved shakily, limbs weak and trembling profusely. A sheet of cold sweat coated her body like some repulsive second skin.

And it took her a moment to realize she was awake. What she had experience had been nothing but a dream, a nightmare. One she'd had many times before.

Slowly, she allowed her clammy, damp hands to unwind from the bed sheets, which remained twisted tightly about her body.

She must have been thrashing in her sleep, she conceded to herself, and ran her trembling fingers through her tangled hair. It had come loose from her bedtime braid and hung in damp curls about her shoulders and back. Her forehead was sticky from sweat.

The dream had been terribly vivid. So real that she'd nearly believed it herself, that she'd been drowning in an endless, churning maelstrom of water and darkness, until she'd awoken abruptly and been flung back into reality. Her father, a Lieutenant onboard a British Navy ship, had died in that exact way, pulled under dark waves until the surface was nowhere in sight.

Her heart was still racing as she sighed, falling back onto her pillows with a groan.

The bedroom was still.

Outside her bedroom window, she could faintly hear birds chirping out their morning song as they flitted from branch to branch. A large rosewood tree had been planted by her window long ago, and it provided perfect shelter for all manner of birds. Mabel awoke about this time every morning, when the birds broke into loud song, as if her body had set its own clock.

She'd grown used to cool mornings and the familiar sound of the early birds. It meant the sun had risen over the sea and the world was once again awake.

Mabel, resting her head into the softness of her pillows, sighed once more, this time in ease. Her heart had ceased its thumping race, so loud that for a moment she had almost believed a miniature horse had made its home in her chest and was clomping about excitedly.

The sweat dried on her skin, leaving her cool and wide-awake, laying upon her grand bed in nothing but a nightgown. The birds outside hadn't ceased their chirping. They sang as they hunted for stray worms. A light rain last night had pitter-pattered at her window, so there was bound to be plenty of the slimy creatures writhing around the damp grass.

At any moment, Mabel told herself, her maid, Lettice, would come knocking on her door as she did every morning, asking if she was up and about before opening the door and helping her ready herself for the day.

But until that happened, she was content to stretch the remnants of sleep from her limbs, eyes closed as she wiggled her toes loose. One last yawn escaped her lips as she stretched her back, earning several muffled pops from her stiff joints. Her weak and rubbery muscles told her she had been sleeping deeply until her horrid nightmare had woken her.

Mabel sat up and carefully swung her legs over the side of her bed, content to sit and wait.

And, just on cue, there came a sharp knock on her door, followed quickly by Lettice's voice.

"Miss, are you awake in there?"

"Yes! As always, Lettice," she called back with an absent-minded smile.

From outside, there was a muffled scratching at the floor, followed by a muted voice and several anxious sounding whimpers. Lettice's strained voice spoke up a moment later.

"Very good, because I'm afraid Royce may very well turn himself inside out if he's kept from you a moment longer!"

She heard the sound of the door opening, and no more than a second after there was a slight scuffle, the sound of Lettice's surprised "oof!" as she no doubt was bowled over by an eager 'Royce,' and a deep, resounding bark. Mabel was quick to open her arms as a large dog bounded up onto her lap, knocked her backward with his hefty weight, and pinned her to the bed. A pleasantly rough, wet tongue set about licking her face, while the dog sat his full weight on her.

The dog's tail was thumping happily. "Royce, I'm happy to see you too, but I'm afraid you'll have to get off!" she laughed slightly, jostling the dog, while attempting to wrestle him off as he continued to lick her face excitedly.

In the background, Lettice was clicking her tongue, hands on her hips, observing the picture the two made.

"Ooh, miss, you better get a better reign over that dog of yours! You know how much your mama don't like him bouncing about the house like he's been doing, not to mention attacking you in your bed!" she groused, only half-angry, for she knew the story that came with the large mutt.

And a mutt he was. Much of the Browning household remembered the day that Mabel (hardly past twentieth year) had gone missing during an outing to the local market in Port Royal's bustling centre. Newly liberated, she had wandered off to the docks without the company of her maids. She and had been drawn to a fisherman's net because of the strange noises that were coming from it. It had been an animal, and she'd convinced the elderly fisherman to haul the net up (or so she had said). Mabel had made her way back to the market several hours later sporting a smile as well as a small, scruffy puppy with floppy ears and a matted, fish-stinking coat. They'd barely managed to distinguish his brown fur from the thick mud caked in it. He resembled more of a drowned rat than a dog, but no one had the heart to tell Mabel that, for she was simply enthralled with the animal.

Many had been amazed that she had even made it home after spending a day down at the docks, knowing the folk that hung around there, and were even more shocked when she came with her new pet. Royce, she had named him lovingly.

Eleanor, Mabel's mother, had been terrified she'd lost her eldest daughter, and the girl's story, while impressing her two younger siblings, merely sent the Lady into a rage.

She'd been confined to the house for a whole week for her recklessness.

But the dog had stayed.

And grown.

And the result was a two and a half foot monster with the bark like a thunderclap, legs of a horse, and teeth of a shark, not to mention an inane habit of drooling all over Lady Browning's finest furniture. All in all though, the brown bundle of fur and feet had a rather kind heart and only became hostile towards tall men—ones with dark hair in particular. The ladies didn't seem to bother him.

Rolling her eyes at the woman and her dog, Lettice bustled around to open the windows, letting in fresh air and sunlight into the stuffy, dark room.

Mabel, having finally wrestled Royce to the floor, where he sat with his tail thumping from side to side, sighed happily upon smelling the fresh morning air.

"Thank you, Lettice, it was getting rather warm in here," she said, and she carefully reached out to stroke Royce's head. His normally soft fur was damp, as well as his nose. Frowning, she inquired, "I thought he smelt a bit funny. Has he fallen into the pond again?"

The young maid sighed, shaking her head. "If fell is what you want to call it, miss, but I rather prefer the term jump. Old Royce has gone after those darn birds again, and I rebuke! He is not a cat!" she cried, and shooed the woman from her bed, pulling the sheets and covers back into place. "The well water is going to be muddy for a week, I suspect!"

Smiling, Mabel relinquished her bed to the maid. Her feet hitting the cool floor was a bit of a shock, but she made her way over to the dressing screen nonetheless. Royce, by the sound of his short claws tapping against the wooden floor, was following her, panting as if he'd run a thousand leagues to get to her. And she didn't doubt that he would she thought to herself with barely contained smirk of mirth.

She could hear Lettice fumbling around in her wardrobe, having finished with the bed, muttering to herself over her search for a dress for the day. Mabel slipped her nightgown over her head just as the maid came back, dress and undergarments in hand.

"Get! Get!" Lettice nudged the dog away and set about aiding Mabel dress, who was chuckling silently to herself over the woman's antics.

"Blue, miss. I was thinking of this nice light blue dress for today. You've nothing special planned, have you?"

Mabel smiled to herself. "I had a walk planned for later today, actually. Mother has no clue, so I'd rather appreciate this information not reaching her. You know how she doesn't want me out along the paths, but daresay Royce needs his daily romps about lest he get fat!" she grinned.

Sighing in resignation, Lettice abandoned the corset she had been holding. There was simply no way to deter Mabel once she had it in her head to do something, even when it wasn't the brightest of things.

"Very well, miss, but just don't let Ruth catch you going out or the whole household'll be up in a riot!" she told her seriously.

"I daresay she won't!" Mabel replied convincingly, but a telltale smile ruined the effect.

The maid gave the laces of the undergarment a sound jerk in a silent warning.

"I'll fetch you the green dress, then."

٭

Jack Sparrow sighed wistfully, sitting upon a large rock protruding from the beach's sand, as he stared on at the wreckage that had once been his pride and joy. The _Black Pearl_ was nearly no more. Her rudder was loose; her hull was near cracked in two, sporting large holes and gashes in the dark wood. Her proud black sails were ripped and torn, fluttering limply in the warm late-afternoon breeze. She was a mess, the rigging the only thing that seemed to hold her together in one piece and kept the masts from toppling over.

An unusual spout of bad luck had ended here, on a sheltered cove not far from Port Royal itself. Near against his will, he had been forced to drop anchor so close to the Royal Navy's base and his dear friend the Commodore (one of whose ships had attempted to apprehend him no later than a day before).

The large, dark ship bobbed tiredly in the shallow waters. The crew had managed to haul her up the beach and further out of sight, although Jack still felt wary.

Repairs had begun already, his men scouring the forest for suitable timber to replace the broken ones, saws steady at work.

He watched all this with a careful eye, mulling over the series of events that had landed him here on this particular day.

It had been several months ago when he'd gotten wind of a map, held by a man—a pirate, he'd never heard of. Hugh Vanderveer, a Dutch sailor by the sounds of him, had appeared from the fog of anonymity with a spectacular ship, the _Hellstorm Saint_ (stolen from the Dutch navy, he'd boasted), and a map he said led to a great treasure. One rumoured to be hidden in the Caribbean.

Jack normally wouldn't have paid much attention to the man and his stories if word of his map hadn't spread through Tortuga like a wildfire in August. Hugh Vanderveer was all over the Tortuga bars boasting about this map of his. He'd said that once he had his ship properly supplied, _he'd_ be the one to find the treasure, and _he_ would be the richest man in the Caribbean.

And there had suddenly been no room for Captain Jack Sparrow's outlandish tales in the taverns. Everyone seemed to be flocking for Vanderveer.

So, Jack had stolen it. He'd stolen the bloody map from right under the man's nose. Because that's what pirate's did, steal.

Although, Jack hadn't counted on Vanderveer's temper…or his ship. He was chagrined to admit it, but it was fast. It was a fine ship, graceful and sleek, but captained by the wrong man. Every ship had a captain that was made for her. He had the _Black Pearl, _and Vanderveer wasn't the _Hellstorm Saint's _best pick.

As it went, the _Black Pearl _had been ambushed not a day from Tortuga. A squall had arisen without notice, and as the rain had tapered, a fog had settled around the ship. They hadn't been far from the Jamaican coastline when the _Hellstorm Saint _had come bursting through the fog like the devil's ship itself, and started firing without warning.

Of course, Jack wouldn't have expected any less, what with stealing the man's most prized possession and all…

But, the _Pearl _had sustained terrible damage, and Jack knew he was outgunned and outsmarted (though he'd never admit it!). There had been no other choice but to flee, and flee they did, even while limping horribly.

As luck would have it, or wouldn't have it, (it all depended on how one looked at things, of course) both pirate ships suddenly and unexpectedly stumbled upon a navy vessel. The HMS _Intrepid_, sister ship to the late and departed _Interceptor_. It was safe to say all three Captains of all three ships were equally surprised at this turn of events, but Jack had been the only one to turn it to his advantage.

He'd always been a master of swift and sneaky getaways, and he had known that then had been his only chance for escape.

So, as the _Hellstorm Saint _opened fire upon the navy vessel, clearly not pleased with having its hunt interrupted, the _Black Pearl _had made a quick exit and vanished into the fog, as Jack was so well at doing.

All was done and well, he'd escaped alive with few casualties, and the _Hellstorm Saint _and _Intrepid_ proceeded to blast the bejesus out of each other with their cannons all the while.

That was, in essence, the story of how Captain Jack Sparrow once again found himself stranded in Jamaica, too near Port Royal for his liking, and with a ship that could hardly float herself, no less her crew!

Things couldn't possibly become worse.

He stood abruptly, swaying slightly with the firm ground beneath his boots. It was that bloody solid earth. It was safe to say Jack would never become accustomed to traipsing about on land.

However, there were things that needed to be done before he would allow himself to sleep peacefully that night. With one last glance at the sea's horizon, he noted the dying sun and set off towards his men. There was other work still to be finished.

Jack found Anamaria at the head of a party of crewmembers who looked to be in the midst of butchering a tree in preparation for use. They'd managed to gather all the available wood from onboard the _Pearl_and around the small cove, and the whole crew was busy with repairs. Thankfully, the carpenter, Bernard, hadn't been injured during the battle that morning. Those who had fallen were recovering already, as John, the resident physician and healer, had managed to salvage a good deal of his supplies. Three lives had been lost, and they'd been put to rest that afternoon.

"Anamaria!" Jack barked, earning a start from the woman, who had been so busy shouting her own orders that she hadn't noticed him.

Whirling about, she sent a glare at her Captain. "Aye, what is it?"

"I'm organizing a scouting party of sorts. You wouldn't mind if I borrowed Master Peter for the rest of the day?" he asked pleasantly.

The man in question, looking no older than twenty years, thin and gangly as a string bean, halted from his work in sawing. Ears perked and eyes bright, he stared at Jack and Anamaria, expectant.

The mulatto woman sent the boy a stern look before nodding. "Fine. I suppose you'll need some young ears to make up for your own, eh?" she mused dryly, and turned away before Jack could respond, already belting out orders and encouraging the men to work faster.

"Marss, get 'way from that bloody saw before ya cut your hand off!"

Several minutes later, Jack had plucked two more men from their duties and told Gibbs to keep several watches around the perimeter of the camp. Again, their safe haven was too near Fort Charles for Jack's liking, which was exactly why he had decided to get a lay of the land. As far as he knew, there were no landowners so far from Port Royal's centre, but it was better to be sure.

Luke, a handsome black man with skin as dark as night and short curly hair streaked with aging white had been Jack's second pick. He'd only joined the _Pearl__'s _crew four months before, but Jack had known him for years in Tortuga. He was trustworthy and clever, a good combination.

And, just for appearances, a towering man named Henry, dark haired muscled (if not expanding in the waist area the slightest) was chosen. Jack figured he wasn't the most intelligent of men, but he was damn good with a musketoon and had been shot twelve times and managed to live, if that was any bonus.

Jack addressed the men seriously. "Now, its near dusk so I doubt anyone will be wandering about, and this seems like thick forest to me, but I want all of you to keep an eye out for anything unusual."

"Like footprints?" Peter piped up.

"Aye, footprints," Jack nodded. "As well, look for smoke. There could be houses nearby, and in that case, we don't to be seen."

"Aye," chorused the three.

Jack grinned. "Very good. Hopefully we'll be back before supper if all goes well," he said, and turned swiftly, headed for the woods. One last thing occurred to him, though, and he stopped just as quickly, turning sharply with a finger raised. "_And, _by chance, if we stumble upon some poor individual…_please_ don't immediately start firing your weapons and hooting like madmen. It gives us all a bad reputation."


	2. On the Beach

**The Sighted**

**Chapter 2**

On the Beach

٭

"We've searched the whole place, Cap'n. I dun see or hear nothin' out of the ordinary," Henry said to him, standing in the middle of a darkened beach.

They'd walked for little over an hour, weaving their way carefully through the thick underbrush, wary of snakes and spiders but keeping and ear out for anything out of place. The forest had been thick and dark, making Jack feel slightly trapped. He doubted any of the town or the Commodore's men would enter the place without getting lost, and the thought made him smirk. He had found a good cover.

As they had walked, the trees had suddenly given way to beach, and they stood upon a small patch of sand bordered by mangroves and backed by a small, steep hill overgrown with ferns and thick bushes and such. There was a wide view of the ocean surrounding, and the very tail end of the sun could be sinking over the horizon, leaving a sky painted red and pink in its wake. Already, above the stars were making their appearance. The area was calm, the water's waves riding gently upon the shore, the untouched sand blown and shaped into miniature waves. Only his men's boot prints marred the natural patterns.

Jack knew that if someone were to stumble upon this place, he or she would immediately know someone had been here. But he had his doubts that a lone redcoat (or a group for that matter) would simply and accidentally find themselves here. It seemed too secluded, and Jack new the Commodore liked to keep his men where the crime was: in the town and on the sea.

No unexpected callers would pay them a visit anytime soon.

Or so he had thought.

No sooner had he opened his mouth to reply to Henry, there was a faint sound of a dog barking in the distance.

The four men froze for a moment, deer caught in a clearing, staring dumbly at each other, before another deep bark shattered the beach's silence and spurred them into action.

Deftly, Henry removed a pistol from his belt, followed quickly by Luke. Peter looked to his Captain for instructions, waiting. All four men listened in a tense hush.

Again, a resounding bark broke the quiet of the beach, this time nearer. It hailed from atop the short hill backing the beach and growing closer.

As soon as this occurred to Jack, he motioned with his head to the bushes surrounding the clearing, not daring to voice an order lest he attract the animal's attention. It was a silent command offering no exceptions. The three men nodded and made a dash for the bushes, their Captain taking one last wary glance up the small incline before following them. He knew very well that canine's had excellent ears, and the least of what he needed was a dog mauling one of his crewmembers.

٭

Mabel was furious. The silly animal had raced off!

Royce was usually too well behaved to be pulling free from her and bounding off during her walks. Every once in a while, however, he would catch sight of an animal or smell a mouse and subsequently went completely berserk.

Mabel suspected that was what happened. Royce's leash had been yanked from her grasp and he's run off along the path, barking madly.

It was her most used route, and she walked in the late afternoon or early morning when the Caribbean heat was bearable.She knew every rock and tree along the way by heart. A worn path winded away from the manor and into the small field of grass beside the horse pastures. Steering clear of the bordering forests (She had gotten lost more than a few times), the path veered along the top of a small hill covered in fauna that gave way to a small beach below. When she'd been younger, her mother had taken her and her siblings down a set of stone steps her father had constructed and into the hidden place. They'd swim for hours, Mabel mostly wading up to her knees for fear of getting too deep. She was terrified of the ocean, terrified of being caught in a wave and being dragged out.

She liked the smell of the sea, however, and it became stronger as she trod the worn trail through the tall grass, away from the manor. She supposed Royce enjoyed the breeze of sea too, for he never complained. He just took off as if a wild boar was on his tail whenever he smelt something else of interest.

And clearly, he had.

Thankfully, being so large, the dog's gruff barks were easy to follow. She made her way quickly along the path, careful for rocks she might stumble over. Mabel had never enjoyed running about alone in the wilderness without Royce. And he seemed to be leading her on a wild goose chase.

Another series of loud, almost alarmed barks broke the stillness of the air around her.

Frowning, she heaved her skirts up and began to run in that direction, her skirts levelling down the tall field grass. This was getting out of hand!

"Royce!" she called, little more than her usual tone of voice. "Royce, you come back here this instant!"

She heard the crashing of the large dog through underbrush, and realized that he must have sped right over the hill and ran for the beach. Barely missing tumbling down the hill herself, Mabel quickly located the old stone staircase leading down to the beach. A large sandalwood tree grew to its right, and she found the rough bark of its trunk quickly.

The stairs, however, were in poor shape. The stones were overgrown with plants, and the forest surrounding had crept up upon her. Branches and twigs snagged her sleeves and hair, scraping along her skin like needles. Wincing, she pulled the fabric of her dress higher, afraid she might trip. By now, she had no doubt that her dressed was torn in more than a few places.

"Royce!" she implored impatiently, a little louder this time, shoes tapping quickly down the stone steps. "Royce! Come _here_!"

A nearby branch snagged a curl from her elaborate-hair-no-more. She halted a moment to wrestle it free, and the effort didn't come without pain.

But Mabel began to worry somewhat when the sounds of him growling and barking angrily reached her ears. He had never sounded so hostile while chasing a bird or the likes, and she began to wonder what he had smelled that had gotten him so riled up. No doubt the silly dog was upon the beach by now, cornering his prey.

_Or the prey is cornering him, _a small part of her mind said cynically, and she redoubled her efforts.

"_Royce!_ You silly mutt, come back here now!" she commanded loudly, impatiently. Tripping down the last step, she broke free of the underbrush.

Then, stumbling and nearly falling, hers shoes sank into the familiar texture of sand with a soft crunch. She'd made it to the beach; now all she needed to do was find that blasted dog. Said animal was growling softly several yards to her right.

Furious and panting, she scowled darkly before marching, with purpose, towards the animal.

"Royce!" she snapped hoarsely, throat sore from all the yelling she'd been doing.

Immediately, she heard him respond, the bells on his collar jingling merrily as he abandoned whatever had drawn him to the beach and crashed briefly through the bushes before padded happily towards her, tongue wagging. This only served to irritate the woman further. If he seemed so eager to get back to her now why hadn't he responded to her calling minutes before when she came crashing down the hill trying to find him? Yes, she loved the dog to bits and pieces, but sometimes he could be right pain!

"Goodness, dog, you're going to have my hair grey with age within a year!" Mabel scolded, sagging with exhaustion and flopping down into the sand. She heaved a sigh as Royce sat down beside her, but her heart was still thumping speedily. It wasn't every day she went romping about the countryside in search of Royce. He was usually so well behaved, too.

Instinctively, her fingers went to his soft fur coat, and she stroked him lightly while picking out bits and pieces of leaves and burs from the hair.

Before her, the sea was lapping gently up onto the shore, the sound smooth and regulated.

"Honestly!" she huffed, pursing her lips as Royce panted heavily at her side. She didn't have the heart to scold the silly animal.

٭

Jack squatted in the middle of his group of four in the tall bushes at the side of the clearing, watching with both horror and curiosity as first a large, feral looking dog burst through the undergrowth on the hill, snarling with its fur on end, and then a dishevelled looking woman. Her calls for the animal had reached his ears several minutes before she stumbled down onto the beach.

He'd watched as the dog had made a beeline for them, nose in the air, sniffing them out. Beside him, Henry had his pistol trained on the animal's head. It had been not four feet from their hiding place, sniffing and growling, when the woman's voice distracted it, calling its name.

_Royce! You silly mutt, come back here now!_

Somewhat stunned, Jack had stared as a woman, fair and decently dressed, had struggled free from the forest's claws, looking quite livid and seemingly intent on finding her dog.

And the dog had come when she called his name once more.

And they were left in an uncomfortable position while the foolish maid had sat down in the sand with nothing but the dog as company. A good gunman could take the animal down with one shot and then she would be left with nothing to protect her, and there she was seemingly without a care in the world! What kind of idiocy was this?

He remembered that his men were with him. They had been away from a good port for a good two weeks. Two weeks without women. And there was one, sitting all alone before them.

Almost as if sensing his Captain's thoughts, Henry shifted uncomfortably, his eyes fixed on the woman.

Whipping his head about, Jack stared at the man, tipping the front of his hat up with his thumb to stare silently at the man, a warning look in his eyes. He did this to all three, the message clear in his eyes.

They would wait this one out without making their presence known, and hopefully the stupid woman would realize what she was doing and run back home, with the dog of course.

He surveyed her appearance intently as she stroked the dog's fur, picking twigs and smoothing it out. She was a very petite woman, more than a head shorter than himself he guessed, and pretty as a flower. Her hair hung askew in tight curls, a golden brown, and her cheeks were rosy. Those weren't common features of the women he saw prancing about the taverns and markets. Her dress, too, gave her away, for it was finely made, although very simple. This was no ordinary peasant woman.

He wondered if she was a maid. A maid working at one of Port Royal's upper society's mansions, perhaps? Her dress didn't seem like that of a maid's. And what was she doing down here at such a time at night?

On his other side, Peter had become restless, his foot numb, and he shifted slightly in the bush.

And, as luck would have it, a twig snapped beneath his boot. Although it wasn't loud, the sound shattered the hush in the clearing as well as any gunshot.

The dog by the woman's side jumped up from the sand, eyes and ears darting about rapidly, hair on end. A low growl once again emanated from deep within his throat.

Mabel, quite startled herself, but only because Royce seemed to be, stumbled up to her feet. Grains of sand fell from her dress as she stepped towards Royce. Was there someone in the clearing? She couldn't tell of course, but Royce seemed to be fairly sure there was. Or something along those lines. He'd never sounded so menacing when spotting the hutias, the small rodents that seemed to infest the island. But there were other things roaming the woods. Goosebumps suddenly rose on her skin.

There was complete silence for a moment, broken only by Royce's low, periodic growls. She was tempted to shush him so she could hear for herself.

Instead, "Who is there?" she demanded, voice wavering slightly. Her shoes sank deeper into the sand.

In the line of thick bushes, Peter turned to his Captain, both offering an apologetic look and one of question.

What were they to do now?

Raising a finger to his lips, Jack slowly stood, his pistol held comfortingly in his other hand. The movement caused a rustling in the bushes, one both Mabel and Royce caught, but the dog more so.

The short, coarse hairs coating the animal's skin perked up angrily while his long muzzle curled into a snarl, eyes menacing.

Mabel was rooted to the spot, wondering if her companion could protect her from whatever had shown up so suddenly. She could feel her pulse beating quicker than normal, her heart thumping loudly in the confines of her chest.

"Show yourself!" she demanded with her voice ringing loud through the clearing, not betraying a hint of the fear she felt building in her veins.

There was no noise but Royce's growling for a moment. A crunch of underbrush, maybe, or a figment of her fleeting imagination. The soft wind gently caressing the leaves on the trees, and the muted sound of surf. Silence. Then, quite suddenly, Royce's growl deepened to a near snarl, the noise rumbling deep inside his chest. And then Mabel received an answer to her command. Someone stepped out loudly from the bushes.

"Restrain you animal, lady. I mean you no harm," the stranger spoke, very and quite clearly a man's. He sounded English, with a slight hint of an Irish lilt to his words. And, overlapping it all was a distinctive slur, for lack of a better word.

This was no nobleman she had found, or, had found her.

Royce was alarmed. Mabel, however, knew he would not attack a human without a strict command from herself. That had been one of her mother's requirements (she'd never taken a great liking to the animal) when she had stumbled upon the stray dog years ago. Strict training and discipline. Although it was rarely put to good use.

She ignored the man's request and stood stiffly. "Who are you and what is your business this time of night on a deserted beach?" she asked coolly, intent on taking control of the situation. No one need know she was the one at a major disadvantage in this situation.

The stranger's response was swift. "I could ask you very much the same thing, lady."

She hadn't expected him to be so sure of himself. No doubt, men who crept about like him were up to no good.

Mabel was silent. Royce was anther matter entirely. He was slowly inching forward to the dark stranger who had intruded upon him and his owner, teeth bared and snarling. It was warning, and someone was going to be hurt if something wasn't done. And Jack didn't very much like the size of the teeth on the animal.

With a quick tilt of his head, he motioned for the other three men to join him, while at the same moment removing his pistol from behind his back and cocking it, pointing it directly at the dog's head.

"Milady, it'd be wise for you to obey," he spoke, eyes fixed on the woman not ten yards from him. The darkness of dusk cast her face in near shadow now, and by how still she stood, he could have mistaken her for a finely carved statue.

Behind him, Luke, Henry and Peter had their weapons revealed and ready. But as if unfazed by the sight of four raggedy, armed men, she stood vacantly, unspeaking. Unless she was scared stiff, of course, which would be no good at all.

Jack heaved a sigh and made an irritated noise as his men stared at him curiously. Grudgingly, he lowered weapon and tucked it into his belt and sash once more.

He turned to his men and signalled for them to lower their own weapons before turning swiftly back to the woman, who stood stiffly as if waiting for the world to end.

Tipping his hat up with finger, Jack peered closely at the woman. "You're dog won't be much use against four armed men, lady, or haven't you noticed we're all carrying guns?" he asked patronizingly with a smirk flitting across his face.

She didn't spare him a glance. "Royce," she spoke simply, and the large dog instantly knew the tone of voice. It was the come-hither-before-you're-sleeping-outside-tonight voice. Obeying the command, the large dog sniffed at Jack before turning and padding back towards his owner, adding a slight tail wag in for good measure.

The woman took a tight hold on Royce's collar as he pressed against her skirts, his thick tail thumping tirelessly upon her legs. She wrapped his leash tightly around her hand once more.

Jack knew a sign of submission when he saw one, and smiled a triumphant smile. He noticed Peter was regarding him with befuddlement, but ignored his men a moment longer to address the woman before him.

"Thanks very much, lady. Now, if you'd be so kind, we'll be on our merry way," he stated dramatically before pausing. "And, for both our well-beings, I'd rather like to keep this meeting a secret between the five—" he glanced at the watchful dog "—six of us. Savvy?"

Mabel felt herself bristle at his careless tone, and purposefully loosened her grip on Royce's leash. The dog began growling once more, deep in his throat.

"My Mistress could have half of Fort Charles down here within the hour, sir. Don't threaten me," she said clearly, deliberately withholding her identity. She'd heard of young ladies, rich ladies, and noble ladies being kidnapped by outlaws for ransoms and pleasures, and had no wish to end up like them. Fortunately, she knew a maid wouldn't fetch a handsome sum of money.

Jack knew that too, and narrowed his dark eyes at the woman. "As I said, it'd be in both of our interests if you not speak a word of this encounter. I have four pistols for you to contend with if you think otherwise, lass."

_Guns! _Mabel had nearly forgotten about those altogether! She was silent for a moment before answering in an even tone. "Very well. Leave this beach now if you wish not to be seen. I shall assume you're not looking for an encounter with the Commodore, sir."

Resisting the urge to clap his palms together in a burlesque bow of thanks, Jack turned to the three bemused men behind him. "Weapons away, men," he said curtly, before spinning about to face the woman once more. "My thanks again. You might think it wise, however, not to return here for quite some time," he said. "If you'll kindly excuse us, we'll be on our way."

Mabel stood stiff, listening to the slight rustling of bushes, a murmur or two, footsteps in wet sand, and then silence. Indeed, they were on their way. She, thankfully, was left alone once more.

But she knew she was hardly out of trouble when she noticed the warm sun of dusk was no longer upon her skin, and the muted chirping of crickets sounded in choruses about her.

The sun had set.

٭

Jack led the three men in a swift walk back through the darkened woods. There was all but silence among them until Henry caught his arm in a firm hold, forcing the Captain around to face three pairs of questioning eyes.

"What in the devil's name was that, Jack?" Henry spoke, eyes narrowed suspiciously in the fading light.

Peeved, Jack snapped back a response. "It's Captain. And _that_, mates, was an entirely inconveniencing encounter that I would have very well liked to have avoided!" At this point, his dark eyes had settled on the gangly form of Peter.

Luke shook his head silently. "What he means is why'd we just let the lass prance off like that?"

"Well, we couldn't very well have killed her! We've already got one of the locals who know we're here, we don't need the whole bloody port, too!" he snorted irritably.

Peter frowned. "A ransom?"

"Would only serve to make our troubles worse," Jack supplied. "I suspect she was just a wayward maid, nothing more."

"In that case, she's probably already snitched us on her mistress! Descriptions and everything! I suspect the Commodore will know just who she'd speak of when she mentions those beads in yer hair, or the gold teeth, or the 'undreds of other little things about ye!" Henry scowled at his Captain.

Jack met the three men's piercing stares coolly. "I don't believe she will," he replied.

"Why's that?" Henry arched an eyebrow cockily.

"_That, _men, is a very simple answer indeed." Jack told them swiftly, and then paused for a moment before smirking smugly. "She may have heard us, yes, but she didn't see us. The lady was blind."

And with that, the Captain was off once more, swiftly clearing a path through the vegetation in an over-exaggerated way that could be accomplished only by a man whose brains had been addled by the sun and the sea.


	3. The Browning Household

**The Sighted**

**Chapter 3**

The Browning Household

٭

"Mabel Constance Browning! Where on earth have you been!"

The incensed greeting the blind woman received upon entering the garden leading to the back doors of the house wasn't pleasant, or unexpected.

Mabel's brother, Thomas, was most often the one to catch her just before she managed to open the doors fully. Or he noticed the dirt tracks left on the carpet by her shoes, or even surprised her as she entered the house, always with an angered but even greeting to his sister's antics.

Mabel, who had returned to the house in a sort of shocked daze,the cool night air urging her quicker, had been about to ascend the staircase to the back doors when Thomas had begun shouting. She jolted violently at his sudden presence stumbling. Nonetheless, she fixed upon her face a stiff smile and pressed hand to her chest in a feeble attempt to steady her hearbeat.

"Thomas! I was hoping I wouldn't be late for supper, but by the sounds of…" she trailed off as her brother went off into hysterics.

"Good heavens, Mabel, where have you been? Mother's been near ready to send out the bloody entire regiment in search of you! She was near ready to march down to the Fort herself!" her brother's voice, most often pleasant with a smooth undertone of confidence, now betrayed his evident worry and anger over his sister's disappearance.

"My apologies, Thomas, but Royce had me sidetracked—"

She was cut off rather abruptly.

"Dear lord, Mabel! You're as pale as a ghost! And you're shaking! What in the world is wrong?" Thomas demanded, voice suddenly tinged with concern. He stepped forward to lay a hand on his sister's shoulder. She jumped slightly at the contact.

For a brief moment, Mabel considered opening her mouth and telling her brother everything. From the moment Royce pulled his leash from her grasp up until she was left alone(andsafe, thank god!)on the beach after herencountering the band of ruffians. Something, however, stopped her. Her tongue seemed to grow thick in her mouth even as she thought about it.

She swallowed thickly. "I told you, Royce had me sidetracked. He ran off, after a bird I believe. It took a while to find him again," Mabel explained.

He snorted. "Don't think for a moment you're off the hook, or that you can act the martyr, Mabel!" he scolded, and before anything more could be said, the back doors burst open, emitting a newcomer to the garden.

Mabel, who had jumped—again—at the sudden noise, listened to the familiar swish of heavy skirts on the ground, and the soft yet determined step of shoes that belonged to only one woman…

"So my unruly daughter has finally decided to mosey on back home?" huffed a voice Mabel knew as her mother's, Eleanor Browning. Widowed for twenty-five years and giving just as much time to pestering her three children. She, of course, received the brunt of the coddling, and although it had been rather nice when she had been small, as a grown woman it was rather tiresome.

"Oh dear! The farmhand's been wandering about for ages now! Someone better tell him you're back," exclaimed another voice, but not nearly as loud as Eleanor did.

_Sybil, _Mabel thought. Her brother's dainty, well-to-do wife who often came over for dinner parties with her husband. A pleasant woman, but much too soft spoken for her brother. Thomas needed a sturdy hand to whack him upside the head when he often got too full of himself, which was exactly what Mabel had done in their younger years. Since he had been married, however…

"Well, dear girl, speak up before I send you to your room! If you insist on acting as a child you will be treated as one!" Eleanor said, walking quickly to her daughter and the dog at her side. Immediately, Royce's tail began to wag tenfold, and he launched himself at the elderly woman (and would have succeeded if not for the leash around his neck).

Eleanor made a distinct sound of distaste. "And for heaven's sakes, tell that mutt to sit!"

Before Mabel could get a word of defence in edgewise, she felt her arm being taken by Sybil, who she knew by her soft hands and pleasant, flowery perfume.

"Oh, Mabel, why must you upset your mother so?" Sybil asked softly.

Eleanor cut in. "Because she enjoys it, that's why! Turning her old mum's hair grey! This is the last time, my dear, I tell you! Wallace will have my head if he's made to keep another plate ready for you when you return from these…these—"

"Dangerous expeditions!" Thomas piped in loudly.

"Thank you, Tom," Eleanor paused, "You're a full grown woman, for goodness sakes! And you still insist on sneaking around like some little girl with a secret. I as said, this is the last time! It's past sunset! It's dark! Who knows what's lurking about outside this time of night!"

"Exactly!" Thomas broke in. "It would be another matter entirely if it were daytime…"

Eleanor snorted, quite unladylike, and continued. "There's no difference! Not to our Mabel at least." She gave her daughter a hard look. "Good heavens! You're trembling, girl!"

Mabel opened her mouth to explain, but it was shut firmly as her brother beat her to it.

"From a run in with a bird, I hear," Thomas slipped in dryly.

"Royce ran off," Mabel tried to explain. "I had to go find him."

Eleanor made a noise of disgust. "And I thought that animal was supposed to help you find your way, not lead you on wild chases!"

"He was doing what all dogs do, mother…" Mabel began.

"He _swims_ in the well! He chews on my carpets! He runs off! He attacks all the guests that come to my house—"

"Only the men," the blind woman interrupted.

"He growls and barks and threatens to chase them! He scrounges around the kitchen—eats from the larder!"

"Someone left that open!" Mabel protested, her nerves grated. Thoughts from the beach began to leave her quite quickly as the argument raged on.

Eleanor huffed. "Did you know he scratches at the doors! There happens to be claw marks all over yours!"

Mabel sputtered. "Well, that's certainly not _my_ fault!"

"Good heaven's the dog even leaves his—his…!"

"Oh, dear…" Sybilmurmured softly beside her.

Mabel sighed. "I admit he hasn't been properly trained…"

"He does it in the corners! And on my oriental rung from India! Your father bought me that while he was in the Navy!"

Mabel assumed a look of offence. "Then perhaps you shouldn't leave them in such well-used places! I can't hang over the dog every second of the day!"

"Then he will stay outside, where he should be! And you will stay inside, where you should be! Not gallivanting about the property!"

"Don't order me, or my dog, for that matter! He'll go wherever he pleases, as will I!" Mabel fumed.

"You will _not_!" Eleanor rebutted.

"I certainly will!" Mabel argued, offensive. "Honestly! I'm no invalid and I'm no child!"

The lady of the house paused, sputtering and gargling with anger. "But you are blind!" she exclaimed finally. "And the blind simply don't wander the countryside with nothing but a dog as their company!"

Immediately, Mabel was stiff as a board, and Sybil ventured to touch her shoulder slightly with comfort. The dog at her side whined slightly, and Mabel didn't see the way even Thomas seemed to shy away from the disagreement quite suddenly.

Mabel slipped from Sybil's grasp, jaw set firmly. "What a-a _horrendous_ thing to say,even if it isyour...your _opinion_ on the matter!" she snapped, and tugged Royce's leash. "If you'll all excuse me, I'd like to ready myself for bed. I'll be in my chambers if anyone wishesa civil word with me. Come along, Royce."

And, with a flurry of ragged skirts and a tug on the dog's leash, Mabel effortlessly climbed the stairs and entered the house. Thomas, Sybil and Eleanor were left midst the sweet scent of the summer roses growing in the garden.

٭

The better part of the night would be spent in silent solitude for Mabel, in which she would pace her bedroom, occasionally speaking to Royce, who lay lazily at the foot of her bed.

"You're not really untrained, you know…nor a nuisance," she would tell the dog with assurance, and he would whine tiredly in response.

Mabel often found that she paced to calm herself own, or to rid herself of nervousness. Or fear. She supposed it was a bit of both. It wasn't until she had closed her bedroom door firmly behind her that she realized she hadn't spoken a word of her frightening experience on the beach. But, even as she thought of it now, her palms would begin to sweat and she remembered the threat that hang over her head if she told a soul about them.

And the man she had spoken to…there was something about him.

Almost as if he had known she was blind!

And Mabel had become quite experienced at hiding that fact. Her mother had helped, of course, and sternly discouraged all spinning, rocking and bouncing behaviour that Mabel had gone through as a child. She had always been reminded to keep her eyes open when speaking to someone, and focus on them, not up, down, left _or _right.

So had he known? She heard the stranger's smooth, slurred words in her thoughts.

_"You're dog won't be much use against four armed men, lady, or haven't you noticed we're all carrying guns?"_

She cast that thought aside and wondered why on earth she hadn't told anyone.

"Fool, fool, fool!" she then repeated to herself, and imagined that Royce was giving her a rather odd look.

She had to say something!

Tomorrow, she resolved solemnly. First thing tomorrow.

And then, when she finally became too tired, she fell into her bed in a tumble of skirts and limp limbs, somehow knowing that no utterance of her adventuresthat day would pass her lips anytime soon.

٭

In the early morning, when tempers had cooled somewhat from the night before, Eleanor had knocked upon her daughter's door.

Mabel had been curled up on the chaise by the open window with Royce by her side, and waited until her mother knocked again before dignifying an answer.

"Come in!"

Eleanor did so, and Mabel listened to the click as the door was opened and then closed firmly behind her.

There was another moment of silence, and then her mother spoke. "I'm going into Port Royal for the day. Lady Bradshaw has gathered up a few of the Ladies and we're set to have tea. So, I'll be out of your hair for the day," she informed her daughter, speaking lightly. "Thomas won't be back until tonight for dinner. He's aiding the Commodore in the hunt for a dangerous fugitive, I heard," she stated proudly.

Mabel didn't show the least bit of interest.

"If you'll be going for a walk, please tell the maids at least. And be sure to take the dog with you."

Mabel suppressed a smile. "Of course. And I'll be sure to keep a better eye on him in the future, if it so pleases you."

Eleanor chuckled at her daughter's words, and nearly sagged with relief. "Thank you," she said graciously. "Joyce will be home around noon from the market, so you won't be alone."

Mabel didn't answer. Little did her mother know that Joyce was not at the market, but at the docks. Several times a week she would feign going to town for a day of shopping and return home with nothing. It hadn't taken long for Mabel to realize she was meeting someone, someone of the _male _variety…

Her mother retreated to the door, glancing back solemnly at her blind daughter. What a picture she made, lounging peacefully by the open window, sunlight cascading upon her brown curls and turning them to liquid gold. The hem of her violet dress just barely brushed the floor, and Eleanor ruefully realised that Mabel was bare-foot, her toes peeking out from under the fabric. Despite the day, however, she looked sullen and grave.

Resting her fingers on the open door, Eleanor bit her rouged lip the slightest. "Mabel," she called lightly, and her daughter turned her head in response. "I expect you to be ready for supper tonight. Thomas and Sybil will be over again, and I want you dressed for the occasion."

Mabel had listened as the door closed quietly and her mother was gone.

٭

Mabel supposed it was later afternoon when she received her second visitor. She had long since shooed Royce outside, a twinge of guilt nipping incessantly at her insides that wouldn't be satisfied until she did so. Lettice and the other maids had called her down for luncheon and tea, of course, and she spent those two occasions in the kitchen with the head maid Ruth and the cook Wallace. Her conversations with them were half-hearted and it wasn't long before she returned to the silence of her room.

There was a knock at her door.

Before she had the slightest chance to answer, someone flounced in and closed the door loudly behind them.

It was Joyce, Mabel's younger sister.

"Will you ever learn to knock?" Mabel asked, turning her head to listen to Joyce's footsteps.

The reply was flippant. "We're sisters, for goodness sakes! We don't need to knock when entering one another's rooms. Thomas, however…"

"I heard you were at the market today," Mabel interrupted.

Joyce settled herself on the other end of the chaise. "Mother told you?"

"Of course. You left rather early. Gone to visit your sweetheart, I presume?" Mabel asked slyly, and could imagine her sister's blush.

"And if I did?" her sister challenged.

"You better hope mother didn't see you," she replied simply.

"Actually, I rather think she would think us a fine match," Joyce chuckled.

"Then why did you leave so early?"

"I left early because I wanted to beat the crowds. You know how busy Port Royal gets in the afternoon. All those elegant ladies and their flocks of handmaids to do their every bidding. They take up the whole street! I haven't a clue how mother can stand them," she sighed in exasperation.

Mabel nodded in agreement. Their mother didn't employ many maids in their large house, but there were a fair fewwomen keepingup with the cleaning and cooking.There were enough to keep her satisfied and her reputation high, but with no income, Eleanor preferred to save rather than to spend. Except when it came to special occasions, at which point she would throw out money on dresses and drinks and food and decorations. She only wanted to attract the richest of the rich, of course, to spy out a suitor for her two daughters.

As Mabel recalled, that was how Thomas and Sybil had met.

Thankfully, those days had seemed to dwindle which each passing year as both daughters turned down man after man after man.

"I'll accompany you in the gardens if you like," Joyce offered suddenly, breaking through Mabel's thoughts.

"I suppose..Royce must be lonely all by himself."

Joyce nodded in approval and sprung up from her seat. Grabbing hold of her sister's hand, she tugged the woman up. "Oh yes, I'm sure he's positively dying without your company."

٭

Eleanor was back before four o'clock, cheery and wistful as she so often was after one of the Ladies' gatherings. Upon her arrival, she immediately ushered her two daughters to their rooms and sent the maids up to work on them. Thomas and Sybil were coming for dinner again, after all, and after Mabel's display the night before, she was most determined to make up for it.

Mabel was washed, primped, and plucked, all by the maid's hands, who all seemed most eager to see their Mistress in a fine dress for once. She never made it a habit of hers to wear corsets when she didn't need one, and had many 'ordinary dresses,' as her mother called them.

Mabel, not being able to see them, was quite inclined to disagree. They were comfortable and practical, especially for one who owned a large, active dog.

Thomas and Sybil arrived promptly, and they sat down for dinner immediately. Eleanor preferred talk over food than over drinks.

Despite her blindness, it was of essence for Mabel to have learned proper table manners. Her mother made it so. She knew which fork and knife to use first, and could serve her own food without a mess. She could use a napkin and find her glass without spilling her drink. One couldn't mistake her manners for anything but perfect.

As an infant, however, she had been horrendous, or so she had heard. So much so, that she had scared off her nursemaid several times.

She had refused to eat with forks. She had refused to sit up straight, instead rocking back in forth in her chair like a deranged child, picking at the food on her plate with her bare fingers. She had grabbed with her hands and slurped at her soup, holding the bowl to her lips instead of using a spoon. She had spilled her drinks constantly, and knocked over her chair in anger when her parents had scolded her. She simply didn't understand.

A blind child, Mabel knew, was not an easy one to raise. And having a mother as strict as her own was not easy on a blind child.

She turned out quite all right, though, and there was little trace of that devil child she had been. Dinner was a breeze.

Mabel listened to the conversations around her more than she contributed to them. Joyce was the outspoken one, Mabel was a thoughtful speaker. Sybil was quiet. Thomas was…well, Thomas. He was rigid and stern, his manners tedious. He stayed firm to his ideas, and once one got him talking on a subject he enjoyed, there was no stopping him.

As a result, the four women at the table were subjected an hour of naval stories Thomas had collected over the years. He wasa newlypromotedlieutenant at Fort Charles, and was eager to impress _anyone_.

"How is the search for that awful pirate ship going, Thomas?" Eleanor asked idly, sipping from her goblet. She had skilfully diverted the conversation from the various parts of a ship to the current news in Port Royal.

Thomas's knife scraped loudly on his plate as his grip slipped, making the whole table flinch. Mabel wondered if it had anything to do with the mention of this 'pirate ship.' Stilling her own motions, she set her fork down and listened. The table had suddenly grown silent.

Thomas cleared his throat loudly, a telltale sign of embarrassment. "Well, actually, we haven't yet caught onto her trail again…" he spoke awkwardly. Mabel had an idea that Sybil was sitting quietly at her brother's side, obedient and apart from the conversation. She hadn't heard but a few words from the woman the whole evening.

Joyce piped up. "Oh! I heard all about this at the market today. The locals have been on about it for a couple of days now, Thomas. I didn't catch the whole story, though. What was the ship's name again?"

Thomas seemed hesitant to answer. "Well, I'm not sure this is appropriate dinner conversation..." he protested feebly.

"Don't be a prat, Tom!" Joyce protested.

Eleanor coughed slightly. "Watch your language!" she warned absently. She still needed answers to her questions. Eleanor was an extremely nosy woman, a trait that didn't seem to carry onto her children too much. "This ship, Thomas?" she prompted, leaving no room for argument.

Silence reigned at the table.

Mabel located her goblet and took a careful sip of the wine. "Come on, Thomas. This will most likely be the most exciting thing I'll be privy to for a long while," she said blatantly, prompting him to continue.

Across the table, Eleanor hummed a note of warning and Thomas cleared his throat again. The whole table waited.

"Well, she was the _Black __Pearl. _You know her, of course. Commodore Norrington has been after her captain since he escaped the noose some months back," he stated, and that seemed to be the end of it.

But Joyce, being young still, was a deal more curious than the rest of them. "_And…?" _she pressed expectantly, and Mabel imagined that she was waving a fork about for emphasis. Her sister had been known for food flying from her forks.

"And we haven't found him," Thomas replied sternly.

"A disappearing act, Thomas?"Mable questioned wryly.

Thomas glared at his sister, although he knew she couldn't see it, he had a feeling she could feel it. "Indeed," he told her firmly.

Sybil spoke up then, coming to her husband's aide. "Now, now, Tom has had a hard few days. The Commodore is determined to capture the _Black Pearl_, and he's sending most his marines, the _Dauntless_ and the _Intrepid_ out to search for it."

Eleanor broke in, "Yes, but what's the man's name, again? I recall it being terribly outlandish."

All the women nodded fervently, curious.

Thomas took a deep breath. "Jack Sparrow, mother. His name is Jack Sparrow. A black hearted and evil man who—"

"—Saved the Governor's kidnapped daughter from the clutches of _evil _pirates and single-handedly escaped from the gallows on the day of his execution!" Joyce completed excitedly. "Port Royal was up in tuff for weeks afterward! I remember it quite clearly."

Mabel mentally agreed with her sister. The _Black Pearl _had sounded familiar, and so did the name Jack Sparrow. And to think, her brother had encountered that ship just a few days ago, before it had disappeared without a trace. _How odd…_

"And you say you haven't a clue where he is?" Mabel asked suddenly, her interest piqued.

"Well, no…" Thomas began, "But she was in battle with another ship when we encountered her."

The table gasped.

"Truly?" Mabel questioned, lips pursed. "So the ship was _damaged _when she slipped out from under you nose? What of the other one?"

"They both escaped. It was foggy," Thomas defended himself.

"You don't suppose this Jack Sparrow took shelter on the island, do you?" Mabel asked quickly, her mind racing.

Her brother seemed hesitant to answer."Many of his men were injured, I believe. It's a possibility…"

Eleanor cut in loudly. "And one to be discussed at a time more convenient! Now, dinner is for eating, not to discuss the Commodore's _war_ tactics," she scolded. Clearly, the discussion had turned too gruesome for her liking.

So, the table fell into polite conversation once more, and all the while Mabel sat quiet, her thoughts in a jumble.

_Jack Sparrow and the legendary Black __Pearl_ she marvelled to herself. _Hiding on this island?_ It seemed mad, with Commodore Norrington and Fort Charles stationed to watch the ocean…

Mabel suddenly felt something press against her skirts under the tablecloth, and then, the familiar thumping of a tail.

_Oh no, _she mentally cringed. Royce had somehow escaped his confinement outside and had snuck into the dining room, no doubt because of the smell of food. It wasn't the first time, for sure, and she clearly remembered how every other time had turned out.

Royce, completely oblivious to his precarious situation, commenced with sniffing loudly about the carpet. He was on the prowl for table scraps.

The dog wandered off and Mabel forced herself to keep a straight face, taking a sip from her wine goblet. It was only a matter of time.

Sybil suddenly split into a piercing shriek, and the deafening clatter of cutlery accompanied by the sound of a chair being turned over was heard. Thomas sprang up seconds later, curses spilling from his mouth, and Royce, thinking it was all a game, barked loudly.

Eleanor's angry voice was heard over the noise, and Mabel faintly heard Joyce laughing to herself.

"You abominable mutt! You disgusting animal! Get out! OUT!" Eleanor shouted angrily.

Something fell, shattering loudly, and Mabel could only guess what it was. She winced at the sudden chaos.

"No! NO! Get off the table _now_! I'll have you skewered, you horrid beast! Those are Wallace's best rolls!"


	4. Simplicity

**The Sighted**

**Chapter 4**

Simplicity

٭

The birds woke Mabel the next morning, with their incessant chirping outside her window. She fell into a curious, sombre mood quickly, her thoughts in a jumble. Royce had been tied up outside last night for causing the catastrophe at the dinner table, and she felt his absence as she waited for Lettice.

The lively maid arrived with another, Annie. Mabel allowed the two to aid in dressing her before they bid her good day and disappeared with a rustling of skirts.

Mabel then rummaged about for her best walking shoes before she left her room, padding as silently as she could down the large hallway. Approximately twenty-five footsteps from her door was another, Joyce's. Her thoughts seemed to be pulling her in two different directions. Taking a deep breath, she touched her fingers to the wood and knocked twice very lightly with her knuckles.

The door swung open violently a moment later.

"What's your business about at the crack of dawn? What is it that you want?" Joyce grumbled sleepily, and Mabel imagined that she looked quite dishevelled.

"_Shhh_!" she hissed. "I've simply come to tell you I'll be out with Royce this morning."

"Again?" Joyce demanded, but in a softer tone.

"Of course. Now, if I'm not back within a few hours and mother starts to fuss, feel free to alert the whole household. Otherwise, I forbid you to speak a word to anyone!" Mabel directed firmly.

Sighing, her sister agreed.

"Thank you." Mabel gave the younger woman a quick peck on the cheek. "Don't worry. Royce will be with me," she assured her sister, but wondered if she wasn't trying to assure herself.

Many in the household didn't know why Mabel was such a stubborn woman, taking walks by herself in the company of her dog when her mother repeatedly attempted to deter such activities. She rarely took visitors and preferred her own company most days. The truth was that the blind woman considered Royce a friend more than a pet. Someone to share the outdoors with. It seemed that people no longer had the time to appreciate the simpler things—the smell of morning dew and the velvety skin of leaves beneath fingertips.

If Mabel didn't have the freedom to see the world, she _would_ have the freedom to explore it with her fingertips and ears.

Royce seemed to share her inane joy for the simplistic.

Mabel took the stairs slowly, all twenty-four of them, her hand clutched tight onto the banister. As she had thought, the only sound from downstairs was from the kitchen where Wallace was preparing breakfast for the servants before Eleanor awoke. It would be a simple getaway, and Mabel calmly walked down the hallway leading to the back door and exited the house into the gardens.

Immediately, a sort of overjoyed whining filled the air. It was Royce, of course, tied securely to a post set into the ground in the garden. His claws scratched insistently upon the stone path as he strained to get closer to her.

She hushed him firmly and ran her fingers through his thick fur as she untied the knot securing him to the post. Then, making sure the rope stayed tied tightly to his collar, she wrapped it around her hand twice and urged him forward, patting his rump lightly.

"Come along, Royce. We're going for another walk," she told the animal, and upon recognizing the familiar 'w' word, he set off through the gardens at a quick pace, leading Mabel out the back gate and into the grass fields.

For all intents and purposes, Mabel only wished to take a peaceful stroll around the outskirts of the fields surrounding the Browning manor. Originally, she had began slipping from the house only to avoid the clutches of her overbearing mother, who—bless her soul—still firmly believed that Mabel was a helpless child and needed watching over like a hawk.

All three of Eleanor's children had grown quickly and taken on their own responsibilities early on in life. When Henry, Mabel's deceased father, had been killed at sea while in the navy when she was nearing her thirteenth year, the three Browning siblings had banded together to help around the house as much as they could.

As a result, Eleanor hadn't had very long to baby and pamper her three children.

Mabel believed her mother was making up for lost time, and usually put up with such treatment with a fixed smile. Though her mother may have had a point about her being helpless as a blind woman, Mabel was quite able to take care of herself. And when she couldn't, she was quite confident that Royce would. She had spent the latter part of her younger years training him as a guide, friend, and protector.

So, as it was, Mabel, who was on the verge of slipping into her thirtieth year, was quite confident that she was old enough to both stand up to her mother's constant admonishments and take care of herself quite fine without any aide (at least from human hands).

And as she continued on at her leisurely pace, shoes finding the familiar rocks and bumps in the worn path around the fields, Mabel wondered if it wouldn't hurt to pay a small visit to the beach. The same beach that she had encountered a group of rowdy yet compliant men two days before.

No matter how she tried to ignore it, the thought had been niggling at the back of her mind since the moment she woke. And, she supposed curiosity had once again gotten the better of her.

Royce found the stairs easily, and scampered down the first few stones quickly, eager to get to the sea. The sky was particularly bright that morning, not that she would know, but it had a peculiar effect on the large dog. Mabel, however, stood where she was. She might be stubborn but she certainly wasn't stupid. She hadn't the faintest clue even now why she had even come this far. A simple well-aimed shot could do her in for good…

"Foolishness," she cursed herself lightly under her breath. She had a mind to stomp back to the house and tell her mother everything, but what felt like a lead weight settled in her stomach as she thought about it.

"Oh, honestly!" she huffed, and tugged on her dog's leash, pulling him from the stairs where he so readily waited.

"I've decided not. Come along," she beckoned him.

She was jarred suddenly as large dog tugged the leash back and stopped to sniff the air. She could almost sense the animal's hair standing on end.

Mabel turned, her heart suddenly in her throat.

"Royce?" she questioned softly, as if expecting him to have a comforting reply.

He jerked forward suddenly, swiftly, and taking Mabel with him. The dog ripped the leash forcefully from her grasp, and Mabel tumbled face-first into the grass and ground, landing with an audible "_oomph!"_ as the air was knocked from her lungs.

She lay still for a moment, gasping, stunned by what had occurred in so little time, before she noticed Royce's thundering barks were receding with the sound of cracking underbrush and

She forced herself up from the dirt with a groan, no doubt tearing a few spots in her dress. She listened frantically for the dog.

The beach. His barks were echoing off the surrounding trees below, but rapidly fading.

Horrified and hardly believing that it had happened once again, Mabel rushed forward, one hand outstretched before her while the other hiked up her skirts. Her hand felt for the large sandalwood tree by the stairs, and she shielded her face from the branches as she descended the stone steps quickly.

"_Royce_!" she shouted in a panic, shoes sinking into the familiar texture of the sand. "Come back!" she shouted, freezing a moment while waging an internal battle with herself. Sensible and reckless.

With a strangled cry of wordless, anxious anger, Mabel entered the surrounding forest with only the thought of finding the silly dog on her mind.

The foliage wasn't too thick around her feet, thank goodness, and her skirts didn't snag too much. The trees weren't thick, but spaced far apart. She still had to stop herself from running headfirst into one, however, and her hands groped passing trees as she crashed through the forest, calling her dog's name. Royce's barks were fading fast, and her throat was hoarse within a few minutes.

_Honestly, you can do better than this! _she scolded herself, and followed resiliently while tripping over roots and stubbing her toes through the worn leather of her shoes.

Soon, though, there was no sound save for the ferns crushing under her feet and the whipping of scraggly branches as she fought her way through them.

Mabel slowed to a stop, panting heavily with the feel of sticky sweat on her spine. She let her skirts drop to the ground, uncaring about whether they became dirtied. She breathed heavily, reaching out to steady herself on a large tree. High above in the canopy of leaves, birds chirped at twittered excitedly, watching her with their beady eyes.

And, as if suddenly realizing what she had gotten herself into, Mabel—uncharacteristically—cursed loudly.

She was lost. There was no sound of Royce. He had outrun her, but that was no surprise.

Vainly, she called out for the dog a few times, but when she received no answer or motion, she resigned herself to silence, wondering her predicament.

_Fool, _she told herself. She was a fool for running about the woods! Blind!

She smacked the tree in a spur of anger and earned another few scrapes in the process. Then she cursed once more before falling silent.

She listened. Her ears were now her only form of defence, but even that wouldn't do her much good now.

Mabel attempted to consol herself, repeating mentally that Joyce would eventually tell mother that she had gone for another walk, if she didn't know already. She wouldn't be lost forever, she told herself. Royce would come bounding back eventually, sniffing her out.

She pressed her back firmly to the tree and pressed her palms to her forehead to ward off her incoming headache. What a day this was turning out to be!

There was a sudden flapping of wings overhead accompanied by the faint rustling of the bushes.

Mabel's heart jumped as she whirled to face the noise, ears straining to hear something that would give her visitor away.

There was a snap of a twig behind her, and before Mabel could react, a strong arm wrapped firmly about her waist and the point of a pistol had been jammed none-too-gently into the soft skin beneath her jaw. Mabel let loose a choked cry, stiffening at the sudden contact. She heard the sound of a gun being cocked. It was quite familiar to her now.

"Now, and correct me if I'm mistaken, I believe I told you very politely not to come back here," a deep voice growled none-to-pleasantly into her ear.

_Oh dear…_she thought to herself, frozen in place. In vain, she attempted to crane her head away from the pistol, but it pressed more firmly into the soft flesh of her neck. Swallowing, she told herself she recognized this man's voice. He had spoken to her on the beach, and such a distinctly slurred accent wasn't easily forgotten.

She felt a warm puff of breath on the exposed skin of her neck, and swallowed uneasily. Never had a man handled her so roughly. She was quite used to the playful pushing of her brother and the light swats from her sister, but the society gentlemen never snatched her about the waist and breathed down her neck like brazen rogues! Such things never happened!

The arm tightened about her waist, and she stiffened further, almost to the point of pain.

"C'mon, lass. As I recall, you're blind, not mute," the nameless man spoke, and she could hear the grin in his voice.

_Goodness, _she thought to herself. She'd had an odd feeling about this man the other day, and now she knew that _he_ knew _her_ secret. Well, it wasn't much of a secret, as most of Port Royal knew the eldest Browning daughter was blind. But to strangers she could have appeared normal. Clearly, this stranger was a very observant one. And, at any other moment, she might have been outraged by his words. But, while restrained by a male who happened to have a pistol (and goodness knows what other weapons!), coherent speech was quite lost to her, as was any semblance of temper. She wasn't foolish enough to snap back at him.

"My dog…" she spoke breathlessly, mortified by her inability to form an explanation. But what was her excuse?

The man, as if knowing the reason for her stuttering speech, lessened the pressure on her jaw with his pistol. It was a simple relief, but the cool metal stayed upon her skin, which was suddenly hot as her heart pounded in her ribcage.

"You're dog what, m'lady…?" he taunted her, voice humorous.

Mabel had a strong feeling that he already knew the reason for her being her and was just playing mind games with her. Nonetheless, she attempted to speak again, trying to ignore the gun at her neck and the presence of him pressed up against her back. Her insides were trembling with fear.

"M-my dog...I was—w-we…a walk. And he-he ran off. I was trying to find him; b-but he lost me in the woods," she stammered, swallowing thickly. Dear lord, she hoped this man was satisfied with her answer. It was the truth, wasn't it?

There was silence for a moment. It seemed to last for an eternity in which Mabel was held in agonizing suspense.

"Ahh…" he spoke, seemingly contemplating something. "You are a blind woman who is attempting to find her faithful dog…in the woods? Forgive me if this sounds presumptuous, but I find that highly unlikely," he replied lowly, and the pistol once again pressed into the sensitive spot underneath her jaw. "Pray, tell me. What were you doing walking a dog in the wilderness alone? I recall telling you not to return lest you be looking for trouble, love."

She felt her stomach drop, her throat closing. Tears of fear pricked at her eyes, and she shut them tight while forcing a ragged breath of air into her lungs.

He prodded her insistently with the pistol. "Answer, or there'll be a whole lot more trouble," he warned her, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Somehow, Mabel managed to find the strength to speak while fighting off tears and fear. "I told you! My dog has run off and I am simply trying to find him!" She prayed she hadn't upset the man too much. She had no wish to die.

Apparently, he was satisfied with her answer. The pistol was un-cocked and removed. In but a moment, she was freed, and she clutched at the rough bark of the tree to keep her steady. Just then, she noticed that her legs were shaking terribly.

"I suppose that's truth enough…as long as you've kept that pretty little mouth of your quiet and not spoken a word of me to anyone. Really, I'd hate to have to shoot you," he spoke lightly, jaunting at her cheerfully. Still, though, there was an underlying threat to his words that she didn't like the slightest.

Clutching her throat with her free hand, Mabel wiped any telltale tears from her eyes before turning to face him. She folded her hands and held her head high, staring where she expected him to be.

"That would be quite unnecessary, Mr…" she waited for a name.

He ignored the request. "Good, then we'll keep it that way, eh? You do no harm to me and I'll do no harm to you."

Mabel wondered if what had just occurred was included on his list of 'harmful activities,' but spoke nothing aloud.

"Now that we've gotten past any hostilities, sir, I would like to continue my search for my dog," she told him firmly, but her shaken state was evident by the tiny waver in her voice.

When he spoke next, he was to her right. The sudden movement started her, but she masked it well.

"Ah yes…the animal," he murmured. "The beast came crashing through here not but a few minutes before you." He spoke the words carelessly, as if he was faced with a tiresome conversation.

Mabel gave him what she imagined to be a sharp look, brow furrowed. "You…" she began heatedly, but thought better of it. She'd been about to accuse him of trickery when she realized she wasn't the armed one out of the two of them.

"I trust you saw which way he ran?" she questioned instead, ignoring her irritation.

"West, I believe," was the prompt, nonchalant answer.

And only if she knew where _west_ was! Silent, she guessed his location and glared.

There was a moment of hesitation, as if he was unsure whether to say more. "Ahhh…west towards my camp, actually. Your…_dog_ must have caught onto the scent of my men."

Mabel didn't know whether to praise her good fortune or feel uneasy about this sudden revelation. Certainly, when she had met the man two days before he hadn't been alone, but now he had a camp? Whatever for? Was he a robber, a highwayman?

Stifling her fears, she replied. "Well then, if you'd be so kind, I'd like to visit this camp of yours and retrieve my dog. Then we can go our separate ways with no harm done." Her words sounded too hopeful, and she doubted that this man trusted her enough to lead her to his camp.

But then again, she _was_ blind, both an advantage and a disadvantage. Who knew this man wouldn't lead her on a wild goose chase?

It was a matter of trust, she told herself. Not all men were scoundrels.

It was a moment longer before he answered. "Well, I suppose my men wouldn't greatly miss the company of your animal, and I have the distinct feeling you won't stop pursuing me until he's back in your care." It was as close to a yes as she was going to get.

"Your men?" Mabel echoed curiously.

The man grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her forward. "Aye, and you're mutt didn't take a liking to them," he spoke lowly. "Might I suggest you keep a tighter reign on the beast?"

Mabel pulled back, freeing her wrist. "You're men? How many are there of you?" she all but demanded.

She could have sworn she heard a growl of anger. "What'd I say? No harm to me, no harm to you. You need not know more'n that." He tugged her forward again, and she tripped clumsily, stumbling into him with a yelp. Caught off guard, the man caught her by the arms and pulled her to his chest, stumbling backwards himself.

Mabel could feel the warm, bare skin of his chest against her cheek. Her cheeks flared up instantly with red colour, she pushed herself roughly away from him.

Ignoring the incident, she retaliated. "My questions are harmless, _sir! _By now you should have realised I'd not risk my life to have you arrested!" she snapped, trying to hide her blush with anger. Flustered, she set her chin and crossed her arms resiliently. "And I don't you lay your—your _violent_ hands on me once more! I can walk quite well on my own, thank you!"

"Violent hands?" Jack exclaimed, feeling his patience wane. "I'll show ye violent hands if you don't tame your temper!"

Mabel gasped. "You-you—" she stuttered. "You sottish ruffian!"

"Quite a mouth for such a small maid," Jack quipped snidely. He watched the blind woman through narrowed eyes, taking in her harried appearance: wet sand upon her skirts, twigs and leaves in her hair (yet again!) and a miserably reddened face. Then, snorting, he turned and began to march off.

"And since you're so able, feel free to follow behind me then, _m'lady!_" he called back mockingly over his shoulder, setting a quick pace west. _Ungrateful wench…_he huffed to himself. _Ungrateful, prying wench!_

Despite any resentment he may have had, though, Jack made quite sure to walk as noisily as possible lest the woman become lost. And, he listened intently for her cautious footsteps behind him, just in case. He certainly didn't want her dog to stay at his camp forever! Especially when it was so, well, _mean. _And having a lost woman in the forest so near his men and ship was definitely _not _a good thing. The whole of Fort Charles could be on the look out for her by now!

٭

Mabel was somewhat surprised that after what only seemed like a few minutes, they arrived at their destination. It was a clearing by the sea, that much she could tell. The smell of smoke and unwashed bodies assaulted her nose, as well as the harsher scent of tar. There seemed to be a sudden collective murmur as they entered the clearing, and she could almost feel the eyes of many men upon her, sizing her up as though she was some sort of prey.

She vaguely wished she could see where she was, but the urge stamped itself out quickly as a familiar bark greeted her ears.

The stranger, a few steps ahead of her the whole time, called out suddenly. "Let the beast be, ye scoundrels! The lady's come to retrieve him."

Mabel was elated when Royce crashed into her legs; tail wagging gleefully as he nearly bowled her over. She crouched down to ruffle his fur, allowing him to lick her hands.

Immediately, shouts rang about the camp.

"Where'd ye find her, mate?"

"Aye, she's too pretty to go a wandering about the woods!"

"Does she want to stay for a spot o' brekkist? She be more than welcome about _my_ fire!"

A chorus of laughter rowdy laughter broke out in the camp, and Mabel's ears were overwhelmed. There had to be more than thirty!

"Keep yer gobs shut, ladies! Back to work!" The stranger hollered over the din.

The men dispersed, but clung about the woman nonetheless, more pretending to do 'work' than anything. Mabel's grip on Royce had unconsciously tightened, and the dog, blissful, was thumping his tail happily.

"You gave me a right scare, old fool," she told the animal fondly.

Jack slipped away discreetly, keeping his eyes on her the entire time. He found Gibbs not far away, standing near a fire over which roasted a few fish. He looked both flabbergasted and peeved. With a silencing glare, Jack spoke in low tones.

"There will be no calling me Captain or by my name. The lass may be blind by she's got the hearing of that damn dog o' hers." His gaze travelled to the _Pearl__'s _broken formnot a hundred yards from the blind woman, her torn sails flapping pitifully in the breeze.

Gibbs's eyebrows shot up as he stared at the newcomer. "That her?" he asked, watching as she continued to shower her dog with attention. Naturally, Jack had told the tale of the blind woman on the beach to his whole crew, with a few embellishments of course. He'd imagined her to look a bit more, well, _helpless_.

Jack nodded once, quickly, noticing his men slowly seemed to be crowding around her. "Aye, now spread the word," he said, and sauntered across the beach, back to the woman and the animal. He sent his crew warning looks as he did so.

He stopped in front of her, looking down his nose at her while propping his hands on his hips. "As you can tell, your beast is none the worse for wear. As for my men, however…" He recalled the dog latching on to Moises as soon as it the camp. Apparently, the man smelled appealing, for the dog hadn't let go until several men had forcefully pried it off.

He assumed a stormy expression, even though he knew it wouldn't affect the woman. She merely tilted her head up in acknowledgement, and for a moment, he could have sworn that her hazel eyes saw as clear as day.

"I thank you, then. Considering the circumstances, you've been most kind," she stated slowly.

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but was distracted as Gibbs pushed his way through the ring of men. "Stop dawdling, you ninnies!" he told them firmly before facing the blind woman with a frown.

Mabel could hear him breathing, as well as his footsteps. "And you might be…?" she inquired politely, trying her hardest to remain politely oblivious while trying to extract information. There was something about these men…

The man didn't answer her question. He seemed content to insult her, "Blindness be an act of the devil himself." He crossed himself solemnly.

To Mabel, it seemed somewhat of a challenge. She frowned slightly, feeling a sudden irritation. "If that's true, then why aren't you afraid, sir?" she asked, a bit mulishly, stroking Royce's head to calm both him and her.

Jack grinned as Gibbs sputtered. "She's got you there, mate," he said dryly. "Might I commend you lady. He's so full of codswallop one day I'm afraid he may just burst."

Mabel's only response was a weak smile, well aware of the many eyes still locked upon the three (four) of them. She knew, however, that it was time for her to go before she was missed.

"My thanks again, for retaining my dog. I'm afraid I may be missed at my Lady's," she said formally. "But, before I leave, I think it would be only polite to know your name, sir."

Jack lofted an eyebrow in surprise at her prim request. "Ladies first," he replied swiftly.

She raised her chin, amused. "Very well. My name is Mabel. I work as a maid for the Lady Browning. Perhaps you've heard of her?" she prompted.

"Me name's John Smith, and I can't say I have," he told her, and it was the truth. Jack didn't often keep track of the high society in Port Royal, much less their names.

Gibbs snorted suddenly. "And what kind o' work does a blind woman do for a Lady?" he asked suspiciously.

Mabel opened her mouth to reply, hesitating only a moment. "My Mistress has been kind enough to employ me in her kitchens. And, I walk her dog, of course. The Lady Browning has become rather frail in her older years," she lied cleverly, attempting to keep it simple.

"Ah, sensible work, I suppose…" the portly man said, at a loss.

Mabel made a small noise, relieved. "Well, then, good day to you, Mr Smith," she nodded briefly in 'John's' direction and attempting to sound sincere. "I hope I haven't inconvenienced you too much."

"Nay, that would have been the dog."

٭

Mabel had made it perfectly clear that she could make it back to the beach quite fine by herself, but John Smith had insisted on leading her back. "To make sure you don't lose your way," he had told her, but she rather thought that he was nervous that she was going to tell someone of him and his 'men.' Or get lost, which would result in an uproar at the house—and Fort Charles if her mother had anything to do with it.

She gave him neither gratitude nor grievances, preferring to stay quiet about the whole affair. They spent their short walk to the beach in silence until she felt the familiar sand beneath her shoes once more.

He had stopped walking, standing at the edge of the small clearing.

"Might I be able to persuade you not to come around here again?" he asked her reproachfully.

"Me? Perhaps," she smiled. "My dog? Not likely."

He sighed. "Perhaps? Would a simply please do?" he questioned.

Mabel's brow furrowed. "Please? As I recall, the last time you had to threaten me!"

"Well, look where it's got me!" he said, exasperated. "Although I suppose I should warn you that the next time you happen to stumble upon me I won't be nearly so hospitable. Keep a close eye on that mutt of yours, too."

"I can't exactly keep an eye on him, as you say, so I can't make any promises," she stated swiftly.

He made a noise of annoyance. "Sticks and stones, lady. You keep your mouth shut and you ne'er fear a thing from me."

_How pleasant, _she thought mentally. "Very well."

"I'm glad we've finally come to an agreement." He said wryly. "Now I must leave your company, which I'm sure would have been much more pleasant without that beast of yours," he told her sweetly.

Mabel had the distinct feeling that he didn't care much for Royce. She didn't bother to dip him a curtsey.

"Good day, Mister Smith."

There was no parting answer, and she assumed he had left. Sighing to herself, she took a good grip on Royce's leash and together they ascended the steps leading to the field above. From the intensity of the sun on the back of her neck, Mabel guessed it was mid-morning already. She could still smell the faint traces of dew on in the long grass.

As she plodded tiredly into the garden, closing the gate behind her, a terrible shriek rose from the back door of the house.

"Mabel! Where on earth have you been? And what have you done to that dress?"


	5. A Proposition

**The Sighted**

**Chapter 5**

A Proposition

٭

Jack, standing tall, glared down at an unfortunate cabin boy, Tommy.

"What in Christ's name possessed you to get so close to that bloody beach, Tommy!" the Captain demanded angrily.

It had been somewhat of a mystery how the blind woman, Mabel, and her savage dog, Royce, had gotten so close to the camp, especially since Jack had made note to threaten the woman upon their first meeting (whether or not the threat was valid no one really knew). After she and her vicious dog had left the makeshift camp, Jack had whirled on his crew like a thunderstorm, demanding who had been foolish enough to lead the dog there.

As luck would have it, Tommy, the youngest and dearest member of the _Black __Pearl__'s _crew, had meekly raised his hand. That had led Jack into a bit of an inner debate with himself.

A punishment had to be dished out. As Captain, Jack was well aware of his duty to make certain that no one would disobey his orders, and as he recalled, he had asked no one to scout the beach leading up the Browning household. But somehow, the wretched dog had raced into camp, lead by a scent trail, no doubt.

It was his job to find the perpetrator and deal with him (or her, although he doubted Anamaria would do such a foolish thing).

But he couldn't very well flog the young lad, could he? Tommy was already a painfully thin boy, wiry and small, and seemed to be deathly afraid of pain. As he recalled, when the boy had been injured in his first raid, he'd screamed bloody murder as they'd wrapped a small wound on his arm. He'd been in a heap of tears for weeks afterwards with the pain.

"I-I be s-sorry sir, I was jus' keepin' a lookout, I was. Then tha' b-b-big d-dog came outta nowhere…" Tommy stuttered, ashamed.

His glare softened somewhat as he noticed Tommy seemed to be trembling on rock he sat on. It was just out of the crew's way.

Sighing and glancing over his camp, he sought out a person with his eyes.

It was Anamaria, and she cocked an eyebrow at him before spouting off one more shrill order and heading over to her Captain. Jack waited patiently until she was standing by his side, eyeing the boy curiously.

"Tommy." Jack caught the boy's attention before cocking his head to the only woman on his crew. "Anamaria here'll take you for the day. You're to do anything she wishes without a word o' complaint, savvy?" He lofted a brow in question

Anamaria frowned. "Is this the rat who led that chit an' her overgrown mutt here?"

"Aye," Jack nodded, and turned his eye to Tommy. "Savvy, lad?"

Tommy nodded shakily, his gaze fixed on the fierce woman. "S-savvy, sir," he answered meekly and slid from the rock.

"Good," Jack smiled the slightest before halting Anamaria as she moved to leave. "Feel free to give him work meant for two. The lad's willing."

Anamaria nodded shortly. "Aye, Cap'n." Then, she snatched Tommy by the back of his collar and propelled him forward.

Clearly, Jack wasn't the only one who was upset with the boy. He knew, however, that Anamaria would give him fair work. Tommy was, after all, somewhat of a son to them all.

Heaving a sigh, Jack turned to stare at his _Pearl_ where she lay stranded in the white sand. The crew were making progress but were on short supply for good wood. As they'd been limping badly after being attacked, they'd had to rid the ship of any weight to keep afloat. Half their supply of repair wood as well as a good many tools and cannons had been tossed overboard.

He watched as several of his men struggled to get a fire going to burn the pitch needed to patch up the _Black __Pearl_

Jack decided they needed the hand of a seasoned expert, and he shed his captain's coat and hat without another thought, rolling up his sleeves as he approached the group.

٭

Thankfully, it hadn't been Mabel's mother who had found her as she made her way into the house, but her sister. Joyce was worried, yes, because the blind woman had been gone for over an hour and when she finally arrived home her dress was imbedded with twigs and sand and leaves were in her hair. Nonetheless, Joyce said not a word to their mother the whole day, which gave Mabel some time to think for herself.

She'd sat herself down in the middle of the kitchens and began to contemplate and thoroughly chew over her past few days. This, when it came to Mabel, was rarely a good thing.

Now, she could hardly believe that she had been so terrified of 'John Smith' upon their first meeting!

And, she had since arrived at a rather ambitious yet outlandish conclusion about the fellow.

This John Smith was really Captain Jack Sparrow of the _Black Pearl_, which he obviously had hidden in his campsite for repairs after his battle with a pirate ship and the navy vessel, _Intrepid, _which her brother had been aboard as Lieutenant.

Could it be true? Mabel thought so, and drudged up from her memory all the recollection she had of the name Jack Sparrow. He was, of course, a pirate, and rather feared one at that—although not because of his ruthlessness. Mabel recalled that he was more known for his swift and silent attacks followed by the robbing of anyone and anything onboard, and the irritation it provided the Commodore.

And then, of course, there was the matter of the incident several months back. The Governor Swann's only child, Elizabeth, had been snatched up from her house after a particularly violent pirate raid. As the story went, an ordinary blacksmith of the name Will Turner had broken Jack Sparrow from jail and together they had stolen a ship to pursue Elizabeth and the pirates. True to his word, Jack Sparrow had aided Will Turner and they rescued Elizabeth (with some help from the navy, she'd heard) before returning to Port Royal. The Commodore had imprisoned the pirate once again, but on the day of his hanging, he had escaped to his ship.

None in the navy had set sight on him until the incident several days back when the Commodore finally caught up to him.

And, as far as Mabel knew, Elizabeth Swann and William Turner had married. There had been a grand wedding, one that her mother, sister and brother had attended, and the Turner's had moved into a large mansion on the hill overlooking the harbour. It was deliciously scandalous, Mabel thought, yet most of the Port Royal citizens gazed upon the love struck couple with adoration.

Mabel didn't know if the three, Sparrow, Swan and Turner had kept in touch, but she was willing to believe that they would help him.

And herself? She asked herself why she was willing to do such a thing for a man she didn't even know. Why was she willing to help him? Why not turn the dirty pirate in and do the stuffy Commodore a favour?

"Miss Mabel?" a voice interrupted her thinking, and she jolted slightly on her stool where she sat in the kitchen.

"I didn't mean to startle you but it serves you right for daydreamin' like that!"

Mabel realized belatedly that Wallace, the head chef, was speaking to her. She was perched onchair, leaning on a counterby the exit, right in the middle of everything. She had plunged deep into thought as the cooks bustled on about her, the smell of spicy food wafting around the large room, and hadn't noticed until Wallace interrupted her.

She turned her attention to the old man, who was standing before her. "My apologies, Wallace. My mind was wandering."

"Ahh…well, you're going to have to daydream somewhere else, Miss," he told her politely, yet in a clipped tone that told her he didn't particularly want her in the middle of things. "Supper's in an hour."

"Oh!" Maybe exclaimed. Had she really spent most her afternoon in the kitchen? "I'm sorry, I didn't even realize…" She stood up from her seat andexited the kitchen hurriedly, Wallace's voice calling out behind her.

"Much obliged, Miss!

Once outside, Mabel stood a moment in silence. Her thoughts that had been left behind with the suddeninterruption were finding their way back to her. That done, she then began to navigate her way around the house and climbed the twenty-two steps up to the second floor. Joyce's room, which was roughly thirty-five steps down the hallway to Mabel's right, was her destination. She had a proposition for her younger sister.

As she reached the door and lifted her hand to knock, the blind woman heard a light humming from inside. It was Joyce, which was strangely curious. Mabel had never pinned her sister to be the humming sort.

She rapped twice on the solid wood of the door and it swung open seconds later. She was yanked into the room.

Slamming the door quickly, Joyce continued to hum merrily, catching Mabel by the hands and swung them both around in a mock waltz. The blind woman let out a short shout of surprise, stumbling as her sister twirled her about the large room.

Mabel decided she'd had enough. "What in the world are you doing?" she demanded sharply, bringing them both to a halt.

"I, dear sister, have decided that I'm in love!" the younger girl exclaimed ecstatically, dropping her sister's hands.

It took Mabel a moment to regain her footing before straightening her skirts, a bit of a testy frown on her face. "Decided? Since when does one _decide_ when they're in love?"

Joyce sighed wistfully. "When one _knows_ it."

"You're acting strangely pleasant," Mabel accused, confused by this odd turn of behaviour.

Ignoring her sister's words, Joyce caught hold of her hands once more. "Do I seem like the marrying type?"

"Marrying?" Mabel cried, pulling her hands free in surprise. "Are you serious?"

There was a breathy sigh. "Utterly…"

"To who?" Mabel demanded, but had a sneaking suspicion already.

"To a wonderful man whose name I shan't reveal," Joyce replied dramatically.

The blind woman suppressed a snort. "And why not? I'd like to know the name of the man my sister is so suddenly intent marrying!"

Joyce's reply was somewhat sheepish. "Well, he hasn't exactly asked me yet…but he has confessed his undying love. We'll be married, I'm sure of it."

Mabel frowned. "When did this happen?"

"I'm not saying another word!" Joyce decided abruptly, and changed the subject just as quickly. "What was it you wanted?"

Mabel located the chaise set up by the open window and sat down carefully. "A favour."

Joyce made an odd humming sound. "I'm not too sure I like the favours you ask of me…"

"Then you'll be pleased to know all I need is for you to accompany me into Port Royal tomorrow," Mabel replied smoothly. She held out a hand to her sister and drew her onto the seat beside her. "Please do me this one favour, my Joyce." she whispered in hushed tones, holding her sister's hands tighter in her own.

"You're acting very oddly, Mabel…"

"Not odd. Just cautious. I need you get me to Port Royal tomorrow. No mother. Only the two of us," Mabel pressed.

Joyce pulled away. "Just the two of us? What's going on?" she demanded.

Mabel decided to keep her plans to herself. "Nothing requiring your concern," she replied simply.

"Well, it certainly seems like it!"

Mabel heaved a sigh. "Joyce, all I'm asking is for you help get to Port Royal tomorrow. Would you do me this one thing? I don't often ask for help."

"That's _exactly_ what concerns me!" Joyce retorted. "You're far too hard-headed for your own good! Do you know what mother would do if she found out? I suppose you want to go without an escort!"

Nothing short of a mischievous smile swept across the blind woman's face. She leaned just a bit closer to her sister, eyes seemingly focused on the girl. "Will you help me, or do I have let slip the secret of your lover down by the docks!"

Joyce gasped, sounding scandalized. "You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?"

A tense silence settled thick in the room as Joyce eyed her older sister with a look of distaste and incredulity. Mabel sat still, a look of calm expectance on her face, but a look of triumph already in her sightless eyes. Finally, the wordless battle ended.

"You play dirty," Joyce accused.

Mabel broke into a smile. "One must have some advantages."

Her sister sighed heavily. "Alright. We'll have a carriage arrive as soon as breakfast is over."

Mabel nodded in agreement. "Yes, and not a word of this to mother. Or the servants. As far as they know, we're going into town to shop. You know how much they gossip."

٭

"Oh, you're mum ain't gonna like this," Annie, the maid, worried to herself as she helped Mabel step up into the carriage that next morning. Joyce had persuaded Mabel to allow one maid to come as an escort, and Joyce had chosen Annie. The woman was a terrible fret, but she wasn't a gossip.

"That is exactly why she isn't going to know," Mabel replied, settling in the seat facing the front of the carriage.

"Which will make it worse when she finds out!" Annie cried.

Sighing, Joyce pulled the maid into the carriage. "Oh, get in and stop worrying. Our mother will be blissfully oblivious if you keep your lips sealed and I come up with a grand story about Mabel's and my day at Port Royal's most prestigious shops fitting on dresses."

"And be sure to buy one or two," Mabel added.

Joyce laughed. "Me? Of course I'll pick out a few!" She then leaned out the window and gave the side of the carriage a hearty slap. "Alright, John, we're ready! On to Port Royal!" she called cheerily to the diver of the carriage, and it jolted forward moments later, knocking all three women off balance.

"Goodness!" Joyce exclaimed, holding a hand to her hat. "I'll have to tell him not be so enthusiastic!"

Carriages as a mode of transport was not Mabel's favourite, but with the Browning household a good half hour's walk from Port Royal's centre, she understood why it was used. It was either carriage or horseback, and for obvious reasons Mabel was quite fine with riding in a carriage opposed to be jostled about on the back of a large animal. Besides, she had never learned how to ride.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat just as Joyce broke the silence.

"Oh, I have something for you, Mabel!" she exclaimed, as if she had nearly forgotten. "Annie?"

Mabel listened intently to the shuffling sound of the two women handling something. She pursed her lips curiously, but was somewhat hesitant to accept whatever Joyce was giving her.

"Here, hold out your hands," her sister instructed.

Complying, Mabel felt something long and rounded pressed into her hands. As she curled her fingers tentatively around the object, she frowned.

"A stick?" she asked, puzzled.

Annie actually laughed, as did Joyce.

"No! It's not a stick. Feel it," she urged, an edge of excitement in her voice that Mabel couldn't comprehend.

Slowly, she settled back into her seat and grasped the object lightly. One hand rand along it, and she felt suddenly the polished feel of it, like silk to her fingertips. It still felt like wood, however, and it wasn't until her hand reached the curved top of it that she realized what the gift was.

"A cane!" She grasped the handle firmly, noticing how it fit into her hand perfectly.

"Do you like it?" Joyce asked eagerly.

Mabel was shocked. Should she feel grateful that her sister had gotten her something so…useful? Something to aid her? Or should she feel insulted that Joyce didn't believe she could get around without her dog?

"It's a surprise," Mabel admitted helplessly. "Where did you get it?"

"After you left my room last night I began to wonder how you were going to make it around Port Royal alone. And don't protest! You know very well that you would be lost within a crowd. It's simply too confusing to get around. You might have fallen down some stairs or walked into a wall—and don't laugh at me!"

Mabel couldn't help it though. "Joyce, I learned a very long time ago to use my hearing to make up for my sight. I'm not as helpless as you think I am." She began to offer the cane back to her sister.

"It was father's," Joyce told her suddenly, and Mabel froze. "I went rummaging about the attic yesterday. I remember quite clearly that he used a cane for his limp in the cold whether when his joints stiffened. You can use it to find your way around. Trust me, it will be easier."

The blind woman stayed in indecision a moment before nodding slowly. "Alright. I'll give it a try. But if it gets in my way I'll be up in the attic again before the day is through."

Mabel was oblivious to Joyce's smirk of triumph and Annie's nod of approval. The three women lapsed into a comfortable silence.

The ride took little less than half the time on foot, the carriage rolling up and down the hills, all the while the ocean in plain view. The farmers had cut down most the trees along the road, which provided an excellent view of the turquoise waters.

Joyce observed her sister from the other side of the carriage. If she didn't know better, she would have thought Mabel was enjoying the scenery outside, as her eyes seemed to be fixed on the ocean as they rose over the crest of the hill overlooking Port Royal. A feeling of sadness washed over her, but she shook it away and cleared her throat, attracting both Mabel and Annie's attention.

"Will you tell me why you're going?"

Mabel shook her head. "No."

"I think you should," Joyce insisted. "It seems awfully secret."

"And that's precisely the reason why little sisters should not be involved."

"Then tell me where you want to go so I can tell John. You can't just wander around the town the whole day," Joyce pressed.

Mabel's fingers tightened around the cane in her lap. "At the smithy. I'll be at the smithy."


	6. A Fool's Errand

**The Sighted**

**Chapter 6**

A Fool's Errand

٭

Not for the first time that day, Mabel wondered what in the world she was getting herself into. The carriage had stopped where she had requested, and she had studiously ignored her younger sister's probing questions and protests. Joyce was clearly somewhat aghast to Mabel entering the smithy alone, if at all. But Mr. Turner was the governor's daughter's husband, so he couldn't be _that _bad.

Mabel sent the carriage on its way, and promised her business would be done before lunch. That seemed like an adequate amount of time to do what she had come to do. However, as she'd listened to the clomping of the horse's hooves lessening with distance, she told herself she was a fool. There were so many things that could go wrong. It could all simply blow up in her face, and then where would she be?

With an enraged mother hounding her, no doubt.

_Stop caring so much about what mother thinks, _a resolute voice in the back of her head told her. What she didn't know couldn't hurt her, after all.

Very good logic.

So, Mabel gathered her courage and knocked twice on the wooden door, acutely aware of the squeaking of a sign above her and the chatter of people as they went on with their days behind her.

Unconsciously, she gripped the smooth wood of her cane tighter as she waited, already so comforting in her hands.

Was no one there?

She nearly lost her nerve and turned away, but at that moment, there was a grating of wood on stone as the door swung open before her. The pungent smell of metal and smoke from within the smithy assaulted her nose, along with a gust of warm air.

"Hello," a polite voice greeted, very feminine, "How can I help you?" she spoke, as if Mabel was some lost soul.

Mabel recognized the cultured accent of a lady immediately. Hers was much the same, after all. Her fingers loosened on the cane and she relaxed somewhat.

"Elizabeth Turner?" she questioned, and imagined the look of confusion on the woman's face. She hadn't expected the woman to be at her husband's smithy, well at least not while he was working.

"Yes…" Elizabeth replied hesitantly, her eyes fixed on the well-dressed woman before her. She was very petite, a good deal shorter than herself. Her hair was pinned neatly atop her head with combs, and there was a wooden cane in her hands. Her eyes held a strange look in them, one Elizabeth wasn't altogether sure she liked.

Then, Elizabeth noticed the elegantly carved cane held in the woman's hands, and something sparked her memory.

"My name is—" the woman spoke, eyes fixed on Elizabeth's face.

"Mabel Browning, I know," the governor's daughter finished with the slightest pinch of wonder in her voice, as if she had never thought she would meet such a person.

The woman seemed shocked, and she opened her mouth in surprise before she found the words to speak.

"Yes…how did you know?"

Elizabeth smiled, but it fell as soon as she realized Mabel could not see it. "I doubt there is a soul in this town that hasn't heard your name at least once. Your brother—he's quite famous among the navy men, and your mother, I hear she's very influential among the local businesses. That's very uncommon."

Mabel gave the barest hint of a smile and gestured to her eyes. "This as well," she added curtly.

Elizabeth stared hard into the woman's unseeing eyes before responding with a faraway, "Yes…"

There was a sudden call from inside the smithy, and Elizabeth snapped into attention. She took in Mabel's appearance all over again before realizing belatedly how impolite her last comment had been.

"Oh dear, my apologies! I didn't mean it like that!" she apologized, feeling strangely ashamed and very uncomfortable.

Mabel smiled. "No bother," she assured the younger woman. It happened constantly. Over the years, she had discovered that people simply didn't know how to act around blind woman. They were afraid of saying something rude, yet frightened of saying nothing at all.

"Elizabeth! Who's at the door?" a voice called from inside the smithy, deep, masculine.

The woman in question turned quickly. "A _guest_, Will! Now would you keep your voice down?" She faced Mabel again and noticed how she was clutching the cane with a death-grip. She realized the blind woman was nervous, and smiled softly. It was habit.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked kindly. "I'm assuming you came all the way to see us?"

"If you wouldn't mind…" Mabel began tentatively.

Without allowing the blind woman to finish her sentence, Elizabeth gently took hold of her arm, and hooking it in hers, led their visitor inside. Mabel was led carefully down a set of stairs before she was ushered into a seat at a large wooden table off to the side of the smithy. The pungent smell of sweat and metal was stronger now.

Elizabeth then left her a moment, and Mabel was aware of whispered conversation going on somewhere over to her far right. She turned her head in that direction as she set her cane leaning upon a table leg.

"Mabel," Elizabeth's voice called moments later, and Mabel heard footsteps. "I'd like you to meet my husband, Will. He owns this shop."

Will Turner wiped his hands off with a dirty rag, studying the woman before him. Elizabeth had briefly told him that she was blind and the daughter a lady named Eleanor Browning. He immediately recalled hearing about the family's eldest daughter once before, but hadn't imagined her to be the small woman sitting before him now. He couldn't help but wonder what had brought her to his smithy, but pushed his thoughts aside once he realized he hadn't even spoken yet.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Browning."

Mabel smiled. "Likewise, Mr. Turner. I hear you're the finest blacksmith in all of Jamaica. How is the business going?" She heard someone take a seat at the table, and assumed it was Elizabeth. Folding her hands neatly before her, she realized they probably wouldn't be so hospitable when they found out the reason she was really paying them a visit.

"Very well, thank you. Your brother, Thomas, came in here a few days ago and requested a new sword. He's a very nice fellow."

"Well, I hope so. I was the one who taught him all his manners," Mabel said with all conviction. "Tell me, did he say what he needed a new sword for?" She couldn't help but be nosy. Her family's business was her own, after all.

Will hesitated a moment before answering. "I understand there was a Navy battle not a week ago. Your brother told me he lost his best sword in the battle, and requested I make him a new one," he explained, watching her closely. She seemed to grow solemn upon hearing this.

"A navy battle with two pirate ships, I'd heard. That's what I've come to speak to you two about," Mabel told them, and her fingers itched to touch the smooth wood of her cane. Ironic how she'd become instantly attached to something she's refused to use before

Both the Turners were silent, and Mabel took that as a cue to continue. "The navy is being rather tight-lipped, but I know that one of the two pirate ships in the battle was confirmed to be the _Black __Pearl_

"The _Black __Pearl_?" Elizabeth echoed, shocked.

"I wasn't sure if you knew yet…" Mabel hesitated, once again questioning her motives.

"We'd know soon enough through the governor," Will stated, sounding quite agitated. "That wasn't what you really came to tell us."

"Will!" Elizabeth gasped.

But Mabel had expected just that, and had been silently preparing herself for any hostility. "Very well, I'll tell you my story, Mr. Turner. Four days ago, I was out walking my dog down to the beach by my property when I stumbled head first into a band of…well, I wasn't quite sure who they were at the time," she said. "They seemed quite hostile, and I'm just glad I had my dog with me."

Before any interruptions, Mabel rushed on.

"And just yesterday my dog caught a scent down by the beach. I'm assuming it was one of the men. The result was quite…interesting, to say the least. Royce, my dog, ran off, and I, while trying to find him, managed to get myself lost!" Mabel managed a small smile in hopes of humouring the two "I was found by the same man I had encountered two days earlier, and he taken to their camp. My dog was safely returned to me and I left unharmed. I requested the leader's name before I left." Pausing, she let that sink in before speaking carefully. "He called himself John Smith."

"That name means nothing to us," Will replied a little too hastily.

"I thought so," Mabel said. "But will you allow me to make an assumption?"

When they remained silent, the blind woman took that as a yes and continued.

"_I_ believe that John Smith is Jack Sparrow, and that his ship, the _Black Pearl_ is currently anchored not far from my home."

"I fail to see how this affects us," Will replied stonily, trying to remain indifferent. He didn't know this woman and she had invaded his shop—his space—to tell him things that could very well land them all on the wrong side of the commodore.

Elizabeth, however, thought differently. "Will! Be quiet!" she scolded. "Let her speak."

Mabel could have sagged with relief if she wasn't trying to keep up appearances. "Thank you, Mrs. Turner," she said, her voicing her appreciation. "I've come to you both because I know of your involvement with Jack Sparrow. I simply wish to know if he's dangerous and poses a threat to me or my family," she said succinctly, and then braced herself for refusal and denial. She didn't actually know if the Turners would take any interest with Jack Sparrow now that he was out of their lives.

What she couldn't see was the look of mutual surprise on their faces.

Will was the one to speak. "I don't know what you think we can tell you," he said tentatively. He and Elizabeth had kept in touch with Jack over the months, but Miss Mabel Browning, sister of Lieutenant Thomas Browning, need not know that.

"If you can give me one good reason why I shouldn't turn Jack Sparrow over to the authorities, my lips are sealed," Mabel implored, knowing they didn't trust her. She hadn't expected them to; she was too much of a stranger to them.

Silence reigned in the room for a long moment.

"You're making awfully big assumptions, Miss Browning," Will told her finally, sounding wary.

Mabel smiled. "Yes, well, I have an awfully big problem on my hands. And, I'd like to solve this problem without any bloodshed or the like."

Will and Elizabeth exchanged a long glance, both silently agreeing to trust the blind woman yet wondering if saying anything was a wise idea.

Inhaling deeply, Elizabeth began tentatively. "Jack Sparrow is…"

"A good man," Will finished with an inward grimace.

There, they'd done it.

Surprised, Mabel cocked her head to one side. "A pirate and a good man? Should I believe you?" she asked, wanting to believe that she was right in what she was doing.

Will sighed. There was little they could do if this woman decided to go to the commodore, so he continued. "You might as well toss everything you know about pirates out a window when it comes to Jack Sparrow," he told her wisely. "He's a contradiction in every way, yet he's not a bad man."

Restlessly, Elizabeth took the seat opposite Mabel at the large table. The blind woman was waiting for more. "The first time I metJack Sparrowwas when he saved me from drowning," she recounted. "Although he did threaten to shoot only minutes after, he didn't. And I don't believe he would have."

Remaining standing, Will placed his hands on the back of Elizabeth's chair and gripped it tightly. "I'll admit the first time _I _met Jack, he was less than amiable—or likable. But I wasn't much better," he remarked. "However, he did agree to help me rescue Elizabeth after she'd been kidnapped."

"You've heard the story?" Elizabeth queried curiously.

"I've heard it, but I've yet to decide how much truth there is to it," Mabel replied wryly. "It sounds ridiculous."

Elizabeth frowned slightly, but continued. "We won't recount the whole thing. I'm afraid it's much too long for that. However, during the time that I've known Jack, he's saved my life more than once…"

"And mine more than I'd care to admit," Will added ruefully.

Mabel digested this information slowly. _A good man? A pirate who saves lives?_ She wondered whether to believe them, and then wondered if they had reason to lie. If they disliked the man, they'd surely _want_ him to hang! Once again, she questioned herself for being there. It was entirely against the law, for one, for aiding a convicted criminal. Not that the law was always in the right. No one was always right.

And Thomas would be very disappointed in her.

Not that she _really _minded.

"All right, I believe you," Mabel acceded finally.

Elizabeth smiled. "Really?"

Will seemed less than convinced. "Miss Browning, excuse me if I think it's odd that you came all the way down here to ask _us _to tell _you _that Jack is a good man. Why didn't you just go to Commodore Norrington? Or tell your brother! He doesn't know, does he?" He eyed the blind woman distrustfully.

Elizabeth gave her husband a sharp look, but Mabel didn't seem too offended.

"You're right. I suppose this seems rather strange to you," she said. "Why in the world would _I _want to help a man like Jack Sparrow?"

Will nodded out of habit. "He seems to be nothing but trouble for you."

"He is," Mabel agreed. "Which is why I want him off my land as soon as possible, so I won't have to go on any longer trying to pretend he isn't there." She raised her chin the slightest, trying to look superior. "And I'd rather do it _without _involving the law. I don't speak of anyone's death lightly, Mr. Turner. Hanging a man while hundreds watch on in glee is neither cultured nor civilized. I'm doing my best to keep your…_friend_," she spoke the word carefully, "from that, but I'll need your help."

Will and Elizabeth exchanged a raised eyebrow.

"It's nice to know someone shares our views," Elizabeth said finally with a smile.

A look of eager hopefulness lit up Mabel's face. "So you'll help me…and Jack Sparrow?"

"Of course!" Elizabeth cried, startling them all."Why not?" she stated, looking pointedly at Will.

He had opened his mouth as if to protest, but closed it just as quickly. "Yes, why not?" he echoed helplessly.

Elizabeth was beaming. "And you know where he is?" she asked Mabel, clearly eager.

For a moment, Mabel was speechless, taken aback by their quick decision. "I believe there's a cove where he's anchored his ship."

"He's probably doing repairs," Will realized. "It would take weeks…"

"Too long to be near Fort Charles, right under the Commodore's nose!" Elizabeth cried out in realization. "Poor Jack! He's alright, isn't he?" she implored, as if a dam had broken when they'd agreed to help her, and now thousands of questions were pouring into her head. "Oh, Will, we _have_ to see him!"

Mabel tried not to look too relieved.

"I was thinking much the same thing," she said.

٭

Later, Will and Elizabeth watched Mabel climb into a carriage from the entrance of the smithy. The driver tipped his hat to them once, and Will caught sight of a curious face peering out from the window just before the carriage jerked into motion.

"Can we trust her?" Elizabeth voiced both their worries.

Will watched the carriage as it turned a corner and was out of sight. "I hope so, although I have my doubts. Her brother is a man of the navy…"

"She's a contradiction in herself," Elizabeth smiled. "She certainly doesn't seem too concerned about having a pirate so near her home."

He turned to Elizabeth, a wry look on his face.

"Can you imagine Miss Mabel Browning meeting Captain Jack Sparrow?" he asked amusedly.

Elizabeth arched one delicate eyebrow at him. "That must have been something to see," she replied simply.

"Something," Will echoed, shaking his head in bemusement. He snaked an arm around Elizabeth's waist, eliciting a surprised squeak from her. He tugged her inside and kicking the door closed with his foot. "Now, I believe you came down to see me today with lunch?" he inquired curiously.

٭

Mabel sank back into her seat with a sigh, aware that Joyce was staring intently at her and Annie was most likely focusing on the scenery but was also very interested in her.

"How was your _visit _with the Turners?" Joyce inquired finally, sounding impatient.

"Productive," Mabel answered vaguely.

"I noticed both of them in the doorway, there,"Joyce said. "Elizabeth is quite pretty…and that Will Turner…"

"They're very friendly," Mabel told her sister.

"Mrs. Amcotts saw you knocking on the smithy's door, and she came running to me while I was looking at fabrics," Joyce stated. "She asked me what you were doing there…_alone._"

Mabel bit back a smile as she listened to her sister. "And what did you say?"

"Well! I told her I didn't know!" Joyce said loudly. "And that old bag will be gossiping all about Port Royal."

"She's harmless," Mabel reasoned. "And why should it matter?"

Joyce sniffed. "You're right. Why should it matter? But she'll _make_ it matter."

"Let her," Mabel replied tartly.

Huffing to herself, Joyce fell silent. Mabel revelled in the near silence to gather her wits again, settling down in her seat and listening to the clopping of the horse's hooves as they trotted along with the carriage. Her meeting with the Turner's had been unexpected, to be sure. She hadn't been sure what to think of them, and she was surprised they were as understanding as they had been. Yet, she hadn't felt more like an outsider in all her life.

They _were _friends of a pirate, though, Mabel reminded herself. Yet they were completely likable.

Mabel turned her head as if gazing out the window, hidingthe sudden onslaught of emotions running through her if they happen to show on her face.Was this really what she had been hoping for? This great secret involving so much deceit and lies? She still had half the mind to go running to Thomas and tell him everything, but the vision of a noose in her mind's eye kept her mouth firmly shut. She would never forget the sound of the drums as their staccato sped up seconds before the lever was pulled and the rope tightened. The sound of utter silence as the crowd held their breath, and then the jeers and calls as the dead, hanged, swung from the end of a thick rope.

No, Mabel did not much like hangings, and as much as her covert actions weighed on her mind, she was convinced she was doing the right thing. The Turners had only strengthened her ideals.

She wouldn't have to worry for much longer, however. Jack Sparrow would be out of her life again soon—and she hoped it wouldn't be by the gallows. And _she_—she would continue on the way she had for years. Peaceful and content in a life without errant pirates and dangerous secrets looming ominously over her head and heart.

٭

That night the fires burned low in the pirate camp. Men lay scattered about the beach, snoring and grunting in their sleep, blankets tangled in their legs or pulled up to their chins. Thebattered formof the _Black Pearl _lay still on her side, the torn black sails flapping slightly in the cool breeze. The moon hung like a silver eye above the men,watching them closely through the night as they slept.

One man in the camp wasn't asleep, however.

Jack lay on his stomach close to the dying embers of his fire, hat and boots beside him in the sand. With the combined pale light from the moon and the golden glow from the fire, his eyes searched the contents of a thin piece of parchment. Words and places he didn't recognize stared back at him, taunting him quietly with their secrecy.

Slowly, he turned on his side to watch his _Pearl. _They hadn't made much progress in the last few days, lacking the proper tools and timber.

His dark eyes turned back to the parchment, and he wondered if this small scrap of paper had been worth everything he and his ship had been through in the past weeks, and then he wondered what would happen within the next.

٭

Any reviews for this not so poor authoress? ;)

**--Cayenne Pepper Powder**


	7. The Infamous Captain Jack Sparrow

**The Sighted**

**Chapter 7**

The Infamous Captain Jack Sparrow

٭

It wasn't the birds that woke Mabel the next morning, simply because there was a distinct lack of any noise outside her window. The air in her bedroom was still and cool, and she lay still for several minutes, imagining the darkness around her, before the silence was interrupted abruptly by the sound of a clock striking the hour in the far corner of her room.

She'd snuck a medium sized pendulum clock—which had originally sat in the corner of her mother's sitting room downstairs—into her chambers the night before. She was depending on it to wake her up long before the household, but had been dismayed when it ended up jolting her awake every hour as it pealed out with pride and delight.

Mabel counted the chimes as she lay in bed. Four.

It was time, then.

Pulling aside the covers, Mabel stepped out of bed carefully, emerging more or less fully dressed. She had retired early last night, and unbeknownst to her maids, she hadn't changed into her nightdress that night—one thing she _could_ manage do on her own—but had remained more or less fully dressed. No one, she had decided, was to know she was gone. She just hoped her skirts weren't too wrinkled from sleeping in them, and her hair not too out of place.

Carefully, Mabel pulled on her shoes, which she had set at the side of her bed, and crept across the room with her arms outstretched to retrieve her cane. Feeling more confident with the wood in her hands (it was odd how she'd become so attached in so little time), she made her way to the door. Placing her ear against the door she listened intently, and only when she heard nothing did she edge it open slowly, mindful of any squeaks in the hinges. Then, she slipped from her room and closed the door quietly before counting her steps down the hallway.

Royce was again tied up in the back garden, so Mabel headed out back once she had descended the stairs. She navigated the large house easily, but took her time to reach the back door, and opened and closed it with nary a sound. Immediately, there was a high whimpering from over to her right where Royce was leashed. Before he could start barking, Mabel rushed towards him, kneeling down on the garden path and stroking his thick, matted fur fondly.

"Shhh, you big beast. You don't want to wake up the whole house, do you?" she scolded him quietly, her hands finding his leash and following it to the post. She untied him and wrapped the leash several times around her hand, just to keep the large dog in line. Him bounding off, barking loudly at a bird was the last thing she needed.

"Now, Royce," she began as they made their way around the side of the house to the front, "I've got two very special guests coming to see me, so no barking. And don't you dare jump up at them. They're respectable, you hear?"

_Like myself, _she thought humorously, realizing that she wasn't acting the least bit respectable at the moment. She allowed Royce to guide her around the front of the house and down the gravel road leading to Port Royal. The time, she reckoned, was about right, so she shouldn't have to wait much longer.

They walked at least a minute down the road before Mabel was sure the house was out of sight. It was about that time that Royce let out a low growl and stopped dead in his tracks. Mabel froze along with him, her ears straining into the stillness of the early morning.

And then, finally, a voice, low and hoarse in an attempt to keep quiet, "Mabel? Is that you?"

٭

"Are you positive you're going the right way?" a disgruntled voice asked from behind Mabel.

She sighed in exasperation. "Yes, Mr. Turner, I am _positive_ I am going the right way," she answered his question, which had been repeated several times in many different forms since she had met both Turners on the road fifteen minutes before. They (meaning Mabel, Will and Elizabeth) were trekking through the thick tropical forest with Royce leading them along to Jack Sparrow's camp. Their plan had been formulated the day before at the smithy, hastily concocted and slightly ludicrous. Will and Elizabeth would arrive just out of sight of the Browning house just after four in the morning, at which point Mabel would meet up with them and lead them around the house and down to the beach—with some help from Royce, of course. Then, they would head towards Jack Sparrow's camp and Will and Elizabeth would hear the full story from Jack.

So far, they hadn't encountered a problem, except perhaps the Turner's initial surprise and misgivings when she had met up with them with her overly large dog. However, things were going quite smoothly now. Mabel's conscience would be eased; she wouldn't be the only soul who knew where the pirate was hiding, and whatever happened to Jack Sparrow after that wouldn't be her responsibility and she would go on without a worry in the world.

_If_ they ever reached the man's camp. Now, it seemed that they were getting nowhere in the large jungle maze of trees and plants that caught and snagged at their clothes. And even worse, Mabel didn't recall it taking this much time to reach the pirate camp before. She had been running then, of course…

So lost in her thoughts, Mabel nearly tripped over her dog when he stopped abruptly and she kept going. Righting herself quickly, she listened intently as Will and Elizabeth stopped also.

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

Mabel could hear Royce sniffing loudly at the ground. He gave an agitated bark as his claws scraped at the forest floor.

"I'm not sure…" she told them slowly.

"He's probably smelled something," Will informed her. Mabel saw no reason to tell him she already suspected such.

Elizabeth gasped, but it was one of excitement. "Could it be one of Jack's crew?"

"Most likely," Will answered before Mabel could get a word in edgewise.

Royce emitted a strange grunting sort of sound just then, and all attention turned to him.

Mabel tightened her grip on the leash. "What is it, you silly dog?" she asked the animal. He growled deep in his throat, the sound leading up to a tremendous bark. And again, he barked, loudly and menacingly, his message (whatever it was) reverberating through the trees.

"He's definitely caught a scent," Will said again.

Turning to him in exasperation, Mabel was about to open her mouth and tell him what she was thinking, '_Honestly! I'm well aware he's caught a scent, you silly man!' _when the leash in her hand gave a tremendous jerk as Royce darted forward with all his strength. She yelped indignantly as she was nearly dragged to the ground, but managed to regain her balance and keep pace with the eager dog.

Pulling on the leash in a futile effort to slow the dog down, Mabel was forced through the thick foliage, branches snapping at her face and plants tugging at her skirts.

"Royce! Slow down!" she shouted hoarsely to the dog, but when had he listened to her when he was excited?

The dog jerked forward again, bringing Mabel to her knees and ripping the leash from her grasp. Several feet away, there was a loud "_oomph!" _and a thump and a panicked voice.

"Arg! Gerroff me ye stinkin' mutt! Get!"

Realizing they must have found someone from the pirate camp, Mabel quickly pulled herself from the ground, ignoring the stinging bite in her hands and knees. Terrified, she abandoned her cane and lunged for the dog, wrapping her arms around his neck even as he pinned the man with his large paws. She was quite sure her heart was lodged in her throat as she wrestled to pull her dog away from the man.

"Get him off! The beast! Get 'im off of me!" the man shouted, and Mabel took him harshly by the collar. To her surprise, he gave no warning growl at this treatment, but instead eased off the man with a woof and gave the side of her face one great lick, nearly bowling her over onto her back in the process.

Mabel nearly laughed with relief. Royce hadn't been attacking the man—he rarely did. Instead, he was simply being friendly, or whatever being friendly stood for in his mind.

Behind her, there was a crashing in the bushes as two people emerged onto the scene.

"Are you all right?" came a breathless voice. It was Elizabeth.

"Quite fine," Mabel answered at the same moment the unknown man yelled, "No!"

Will darted forward to help Mabel to her feet as she scrabbled about trying to find her dog's leash. Elizabeth retrieved the blind woman's cane from the ground, pressed it into her hands and helped dust off her dirtied dress. Pulling the stranger up next, Will peered at his curiously, taking in his suntanned appearance, windswept hair and ratty clothes.

"You're one of Jack Sparrow's crew?" he asked, but it sounded more like a statement.

The man, who was quite young, tried to look oblivious. "Jack Sparrow…?" he hesitated, eyeing the three carefully. But something seemed to light in his eyes as he inspected the Turners more carefully, and he nodded. "Aye, I be. Peter's me name. And you be Will Turner!"

Will nodded, giving the man a confused look, wondering how this pirate knew his name and face. And Mabel felt relief flow through her. She had to admit, this whole time there had always been the inkling of doubt in her mind that she was mistaken. John Smith was not Jack Sparrow and she was a fool for thinking so. But she'd been right!

"I was one o' Jack's crew aboard the _Interceptor. _I doubt ye remember me." Peter looked to Elizabeth then, smiling. "And Miss Swann."

"Mrs. Turner, now, if you please," she corrected politely.

Peter nodded in understanding, still grinning. It disappeared, however, when he recognized the third person of the party. "And you again…with yer dog…"

Mabel guessed he was speaking to her. "I'm terribly sorry about Royce's behaviour. I'm usually able to control him better…"

Peter snorted. "I reckon the cap'n won't be too happy to see you, Miss, or your dog, again," he told her. "He sent me out 'ere to find where that accursed barking be comin' from, and look what I found! I suspected your dog, Miss, but not you _and_ the Turners!"

"We've come to see Jack," Elizabeth piped up.

Sighing, the pirate turned to Mabel. "An' I suppose you led 'em 'ere?"

Will didn't allow the time for an answer. "Will you take us to Jack? We have to speak to him."

Peter nodded reluctantly. "Aye, I'll take ye. But _you—"_ he pointed at Mabel, perhaps not realizing she couldn't see him "_—_keep your dog under control. Me mates remember that beast an' might not be so forgivin' next time!" He gave them all a hard glare before turning on his heel and walking away. "Come on, then, hurry up!"

They walked a short distance in silence before Mabel caught the scent of smoke in the air and the sound of many voices. They were there.

Abruptly, the forest thinned and Mabel felt her shoes sink into the sand. Will and Elizabeth were close behind.

Peter announced himself to the camp with a loud holler. "Cap'n Sparrow! I've got a few visitors for ye!" he shouted, and Mabel could have sworn the whole camp quietened for just a moment.

Will clutched Elizabeth's hand tightly, in shock at the sight before him. It was a modest camp set up on a small beach, several small fires roasting what looked to be fish while small groups of pirates crowded around in waiting. The smell of pitch and smoke hanging heavy in the air, and several men were already focused repairs to the ghostly form of the battered and wrecked _Black __Pearl_The infamous ship now lay beached on her side in the shallows as her crew worked to repair her.

Then, Will's eyes caught sight of a familiar form walking towards them. No, he corrected himself, it was more like stalking that walking. Indeed, Captain Jack Sparrow did not look like a happy man. His shoulders were set, his stride swift and his face a picture of unwelcome.

"Goodness!" Elizabeth exclaimed softly beside him, which seemed to sum up both their impressions.

Peter cast a quick glance at Will, as if to reaffirm who he was. "As ye can see, Cap'n ain't in the best of moods," he muttered, but straightened considerably as Jack reached them. "I followed the sound o' barkin', Cap'n, and stumbled upon them three. Said they was lookin' for ye, so I brought 'em to the camp 'ere."

Jack cast the man a brief glance that seemed to dismiss him and turned to his crew,whoall seemed intrigued by this turn of events. "Stop gawking, ye lazy swabs!" he hollered, and all eyes were abruptly averted, but not ears. Jack focused his attention on his three visitors, looking much more welcoming than before.

Before he could utter a greeting, Elizabeth stepped forward and embraced him in a tight hug.

"Oh, Jack, I never thought I'd be _happy_ to see you!" she told him, pulling away and smiling at his startled expression. The unwelcome glare was quite suddenly gone from his face, replaced by confusion.

"We've heard what's happened," Will explained. "We came to see how you are."

Jack lofted a brow, his gaze settling on the blind woman who stood just out of the conversation. With the dog by her side.

"And I can guess how you got here," he said darkly, before changing faces to greet Will with a handshake. "It's good to see you again, Will, even in the most unfavourable of company."

Elizabeth frowned at the remark. "Surely you can't mean Mabel?" she asked with surprise.

But Jack was focused on Mabel. "First time was an accident, second time was by chance, and the third time is on purpose, eh lass?" he asked darkly.

Despite feeling somewhat unnerved by his hostility, Mabel smiled charmingly. "So it would seem."

Expecting an answer as such, Jack heaved a sigh. "Well, I suppose you'll be wanting the full story," he spoke to all three guests. "How me crew and myself came to be stranded on this cursed beach with the _Pearl_ lyin' there like a beached whale."

Will glanced again at the once formidable ship that now lay in ruins. "We were hoping for that."

Jack followed his line of sight to the _Pearl_, "Then have it you will." He turned swiftly, making his way into the camp. "Follow me, then," he called back.

Will followed immediately, but Elizabeth lingered with Mabel. She hooked her arm through the blind woman's without a word and urged her forward. She was tentative in entering the camp, as many of the men seemed to be eyeing the two women intently. Mabel tugged on Royce's leash as she went. The dog seemed enamoured with the curious smells throughout the camp and strained eagerly on his leash, wanting to break free and explore.

"I admit I'm somewhat hesitant to hear Jack's story," Elizabeth told Mabel as they followed the two men leisurely.

"Why's that?" Mabel asked curiously, giving a hard tug on Royce's leash.

Elizabeth let out a humourless chuckle. "I remember all too well the last time Will and I got wrapped up in one of Jack's adventures."

"I thought you wanted to see him, though," Mabel said.

Elizabeth stopped suddenly. "Oh, I do!" she said truthfully. "I'm very concerned about Jack. I just don't want to get caught up in anything dangerous! I'm quite fine living as I am, you understand."

"I do." Mabel didn't, really.

Suddenly, the leash around Mabel's hand gave a powerful jerk that nearly sent both women toppling over and managed to drag Mabel several feet to the right.

Elizabeth watched in surprise as the large dog jumped atop one of a three men gathered around a small fire, and proceeded to lick his face with what she could only describe as joy.

"Oho! Looks like the mutt's taken a likin' to you now, Jerome!" one crewmember guffawed loudly as Elizabeth steadied Mabel.

The blind woman was aghast. "Oh dear, I'm truly sorry!" She attempted to pull the dog off the man by tugging on the leash. "Royce! Oh, he's not usually like this, you see. It's all the excitement that's gotten to him!"

The man finally managed to push the dog off, and wiping his face with a rueful grin. "Oh, he seems to like us plenty, ma'am. He was after every man in the camp a couple days ago before you an' the Cap'n arrived back 'ere to get him!"

Mabel was relieved the man wasn't angry. "I'm sorry. He does get out of hand sometimes…"

Her admission only seemed to send the pirates into loud laughter once more.

Elizabeth couldn't help but smile the slightest at the sight before her.

Across the camp, Jack and Will were making their way towards a solitary fire that had several familiar faces sitting around it cooking breakfast. Will cast a wary glance behind him where the three men seemed to have accosted his wife and Mabel and were now laughing heartily as Royce strained to jump on them. He noticed many of Jack's crew seemed to be captivated by the two women, and wasn't sure if he liked that at all.

"Jack…" Will began slowly.

Jack turned swiftly, his dark eyes focusing on the two women a moment before he shook his head, a frown on his lips. "Leave 'em be, son. I reckon they're quite amused by this whole set up."

Will frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, _they're _quite happy to have the company," Jack stated darkly before starting to walk again.

Will followed helplessly. "Jack, you don't sound happy to see us."

Jack rolled his eyes and stopped again, whirling abruptly to face Will, a glint in his eye. "You're mistaken, Will. I'm very happy to see you…it's that damned blind woman and her overgrown beast of a dog that I'm less than happy to see," he explained, nodding over to where Mabel stood with Elizabeth. "I told the lass not to come back, didn't I? But did she listen?"

Will watched them again for a moment, and when he turned back to Jack, he saw the man had seated himself at the fire several feet away. He tried to hold back the smile on his face at Jack's apparent displeasure.

"Elizabeth!" he shouted, calling his wife away from Jack's crew and motioning her over as he seated himself on the fallen log that seemed to serve as a seat. He noticed the man, Gibbs, was seated also—nursing a flask of an alcohol of some sort—as well as Anamaria, the mute Cotton and a man of African descent who had streaks of grey running through his short cropped hair.

"Will, you know Gibbs, Anamaria, Cotton…and that there is Luke, a good mate o' mine," Jack introduced them briefly, each member of his crew nodding to Will in greeting.

"Figures you'd show up 'round here lookin' for Captain Sparrow," Anamaria drawled humourlessly, and Cotton's parrot squawked loudly in agreement.

"We weren't expecting you to come waltzin' into our little hideaway this morn'," Gibbs chuckled. "Least of all with two women in tow," he said just as Elizabeth and Mabel arrived. Jack did re-introductions, but his eyes turned to Mabel as soon as she was seated.

"Where'd that dog of yours run off to?" he demanded gruffly, startling her.

"With that man…what was his name?"

"Bobby, I believe," Elizabeth supplied an answer.

Mabel nodded. "He offered to watch him for me."

Jack didn't respond, but turned his head to look over the camp. Royce was not with Bobby, but was splashing about in the shallows near the men working on the ship. Breathing deeply, he turned back to the fire. He noticed that Gibbs was shaking his head and Anamaria was smirking at him, obviously enjoying the way the blind woman got under his skin.

Clearing his throat, Jack began, "Now, on to the reason I find myself in such fine company today," he said, eyeing Mabel, uncertain if he wanted a gossiping maid hearing his tale. But Will and Elizabeth were waiting eagerly, and his crewmembers with looks of expectation upon their face. Grudgingly, he began, "Several months ago, a Dutch pirate showed up in these waters, by the name o' Captain Hugh Vanderveer. Now, I found this curious enough, since I'd never 'eard of this bloke, an' all of a sudden he's turned up in the Caribbean, captain of his own ship! An' I make a point of knowing everything there is to know about the goings on in this part of the world." He stopped abruptly when Anamaria gave a snort of laughter and glared at her.

"Now, the first thing he does, would you believe it, is waltz into Tortuga with this grand ship o' his, and proceed to get drunk off his arse while announcing to the whole of the island that he's got some priceless map in his possession! He's got a map that leads to treasure—and let me tell you that there ain't many of those lying around anymore." Jack gave a rueful grin. "As to be expected, this news spreads like a wildfire across Tortuga until it reaches your truly. Now, I hadn't met the man, but from what I'd been hearing he was a pompous fellow who loved his drink…among other things," Jack cast a hasty glance at Elizabeth. "He also hadn't made much of an effort to put this map of his to good use. I was curious, I admit, so I decided to hunt this Vanderveer down as we were anchored in Tortuga, or at least learn a bit more about him seeing as he was so _infamous_ all of a sudden. I managed to get a fellow to point out his ship in the harbour to me. A right beauty she was…_not_ a ship just anyone could get their hands on. Vanderveer, I decided, must be very good at what he does. I made a point to ask around a bit, and eventually found the man in a tavern, so watered down I was surprised he could still talk. And talking he was, on about that map of his. About the treasure it revealed somewhere in the ink on its surface. He seemed confident that treasure was his, and his alone—"

Anamaria interrupted his long monologue with another snort. "And this is about when the Captain gets an idiotic idea in 'is head and decides to drag us into it with him."

Luke chuckled and Cotton smiled, but Gibbs muttered something darkly under his breath and Jack sent Anamaria a look that clearly said she would pay for that comment later.

"Thank you very much for the input, Anamaria, however unnecessary it was," Jack spoke lightly, noticing that Will and Elizabeth looked enraptured with the tale, and the blind woman somewhat wary. "Now, as I was saying, this Hugh Vanderveer was going on and on about this map o' his, and I wondered why this pirate captain, as good as he said he was, hadn't yet gone after this treasure—if it even existed! So, I took a seat near his and listened in for a bit. Well, I'm not quite sure how I managed to understand a word that man was saying, but from his conversation with what I guessed were a few of his crew, I gathered that he was taking on supplies. A good deal of supplies, as if he was stocking up to sail across the bloody Atla—"

"C'mon, Sparrow, none of us have all day," Anamaria hurried him along.

Jack turned a deceptively pleasant smile on her. "You've heard the story, Anamaria, so you're welcome to start heading repairs on the _Pearl_ instead of interrupting me every other minute."

Anamaria arched an eyebrow and regarded him coolly. "If you don't mind, Captain, I think I'd rather stay 'ere for a while yet. Just to make sure you get the facts straight, of course."

"Very well," Jack acceded, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "Continuing on…an idea struck me, quite a brilliant on, I might add. I hatched up a clever plan to steal Vanderveer's map for myself, greedy bastard that I am, and subsequently slipped aboard his vessel that very same night, looted his cabin until I'd gathered _all_ the maps I could possible find, and returned to the _Pearl, _which sailed out of Tortuga's harbour that same night," he finished and turned an expectant look at Anamaria as if asking if she was satisfied.

Will opened his mouth in shock. "You stole _all_ his maps?"

"Of course! I didn't know which one led to this supposed 'treasure,' so I decided to take _all_ of them for good measure."

Beside Will, Elizabeth stifled a laugh.

Jack turned a wild eye on her. "This is no laughing matter, missy! Look where's it's gotten us!" He gestured to their surroundings.

"And _how_ did you get here?" Will asked suddenly.

Jack snorted. "Well, you don't think Vanderveer never found out I'd stolen all his maps, do you? No, he asked around, and since nothing goes unnoticed in Tortuga, he found me out quite easily. By that time, however, we were halfway to Jamaica and I had finally found the map I was looking for." He paused a moment, suddenly looking grim. "Vanderveer managed to catch up to us in a day. I haven't a clue how. There were a thousand places I could have sailed to from Tortuga yet somehow Vanderveer managed to catch our trail. There had been a squall the night before, and the waters were foggy. He came upon us in the night, guns blazing. The _Pearl_ must have been closer to Jamaica than I thought, though, because no sooner does the _Hellstorm Saint _start firing their cannons when a navy ship bursts through the fog. The _Intrepid, _sister ship to the late _Interceptor, _I believe." Jack grinned at the memory of the navy ship he had commandeered. "As you know, the _Pearl_ gave them the slip while Vanderveer and the navy had a go at each other. I managed to avoid Port Royal, but the _Pearl_ was near bloody sinking by the time I found this place. I'm stuck under the navy's nose until repairs are complete, and at the rate we're going…" he let the sentence trail off. "Next time, perhaps I'll take more time to find the map I need, and _only _take that one…"

Mabel kept her silence throughout the story, listening intently, thankful at that moment that Jack Sparrow knew naught that her mother was a navy man's wife and her brother a lieutenant serving under the commodore.

Jack, however, seemed to notice the sudden pallor to her skin and watched her carefully for several moments before Will spoke up.

"You know, Jack, tat I'll help you repair your ship any way I can," Will told him earnestly, and Jack regarded him curiously a moment before a slow smile curled on his lips.

"Now, now, I wouldn't want to keep you from your dear wife," he said, glancing at Elizabeth, who laughed.

"Don't be silly, Jack! You know I'd help if I could, but I suppose Will shall have to do it for me," she replied cheekily, earning an adoring look from her husband.

Several loud barks down from the water startled them all, especially Mabel. She stood carefully from the log, brushing her skirts clean of any sand.

"Mabel?" Elizabeth questioned, peering up at the woman.

She held an uneasy look upon her face. "Tell me, what time do you suppose it is?" she asked, not directing her question at anyone in particular.

It was Luke who answered. "Just after dawn…I reckon half past five."

Mabel paled. Most the household staff would be awake by now, and soon Lettice would knock upon her door…and if she wasn't there…

"I must go, then," she said, the grip on her cane tightening.

Elizabeth gave her an odd look before standing up also, touching her hand to the blind woman's arm to stay her. "Then we should be going, too," she announced, looking down at Will. He was clearly unwilling to leave Jack just yet.

He assented, however, "I'll join you two in a minute."

Nodding, Elizabeth led Mabel off towards the water's edge where Royce was happily playing fetch with several young men. He was swimming just offshore, a large piece of driftwood clamped between his jaws.

Jack and Will stood, the latter watching the two women until they reached the shoreline.

"Now that I'm finished my tale, I don't suppose you three would like to start working?" Jack barked at the pirates still sitting around the small fire. Will turned to watch as they grumbled amongst themselves—not counting Cotton for obvious reasons—and made a show of getting up and shuffling away down the beach. The young blacksmith was smiling when Jack turned to him with a grim look on his face. Will noticed he looked haggard, and more dishevelled than he'd ever seen the pirate.

"Can she be trusted?"

Will regarded him perplexedly. "Who? Miss Browning?"

Jack didn't answer, but his dark eyes strayed to where the two women stood, Mabel hunched over to stroke the large dog's head.

Will snorted, "Of course she can! She was the one who came to us just yesterday, quite sure it was you and your crew camped out over here. It took some convincing, mind you, but then she acceded to leading us here! "

Jack merely arched an eyebrow at Will, face impassive.

Will frowned at the man obvious unwillingness to trust. But then it struck him that he didn't really know if he could trust Mabel, either. She was, after all, the daughter of a prominent man in the navy and a woman known for being a snoop and insincere. And the sister of a newly appointed lieutenant in the navy, one who adored the commodore and seemed to worship him like a god.

Could she be trusted with a secret as big as this one?

She had kept it so far, hadn't she?

And if she couldn't, well…

"A bit late to be asking such questions, don't you think, Jack?" Will hissed lowly, voicing his thoughts. "Considering you've just spoke of everything in her presence."

The pirate's eyes widened slightly. "I have ways of ensuring people to stay silent," he told the blacksmith airily.

Will shook his head in exasperation, firmly tossing out his earlier thoughts. "You are entirely too mistrustful, Jack. Miss Browning is a fine woman. She risked much just to speak with Elizabeth and I and to keep your location secret!"

Jack seemed to consider that. "Perhaps…"

Will glowered. "If I find you've threatened that woman in any way, you'll not have my help in this matter!" he said, gesturing to the camp and the ship.

Jack watched him silently for a moment before a grin spread slowly upon his face. "It's not very often that Captain Jack Sparrow admits to needing assistance, but I suppose this time I'm rather stuck without it, aye? I have a rather large shopping list of things I need, but I can't send illiterate pirates into Port Royal to do the job, now can I?"

Relaxing, Will smiled back at his friend. "Aye, Jack. I'll be back early tomorrow."

"Splendid," Jack grinned airily. "Now, you're wife seems rather impatient, so I suggest we not dally any longer." He slapped Will heartily on the back before wrapping an arm around his shoulders and propelling him forward.

Elizabeth and Mabel had made their way over to the edge of the beach where the forest began, the blind woman antsy on her feet. Royce was now firmly under her control again—or so she hoped—and Jack's crew had dispersed to begin working once again. She could feel Royce's tail thumping across her legs beneath her skirts as Jack and Will approached.

"Well, ladies, blacksmith, I've quite enjoyed your company," Jack announced loudly, and she could hear the grin in his voice.

"We were worried, Jack. We're very glad you're all right," Elizabeth said. "I'll help in any way I can."

"Allowing dear William to assist in repairs is quite enough, Elizabeth. He can do just as much, if not more, than any man here," he replied amiably, and then addressed Will. "I want you here bright and early, savvy?"

Elizabeth laughed. "I'll be sure to wake him early, Jack. Don't worry," she said. "Now, I'm afraid we must take our leave from you, Jack." She attempted to hurry their goodbyes along, but to no avail.

"In just a moment," Jack stated, and seconds later Mabel was accosted by the pirate captain and tugged insistently away from the Turners, her arm hooked in his, although not of choice.

Jack halted several yards away, unhooking his arm from Mabel's to grasp her upper arm in a tight grip. He leaned forward to speak in low tones. "I don't believe I've yet thanked you for your assistance," he said, but Mabel didn't think he sounded very sincere.

She smiled wanly. "There's no need. I've done nothing, really," she replied carefully, impatient to leave yet unwilling to upset this pirate captain.

"Oh, but you have. Not reporting myself and my men to the commodore, and seeking out Will and Elizabeth Turner to ask for _their_ help—for me, Captain Jack Sparrow. A pirate. I'd say that's quite a lot," he told her, suspicion dripping off his words. He didn't give her the chance to speak up. "_And_, as I remember it, I told you my name was John Smith."

"It's very common name," she noted duly.

"Very common," Jack agreed. "So how did you go from John Smith to Captain Jack Sparrow, hmm?"

Carefully, Mabel placed her hand atop his and he allowed her to pry it from her arm. "Well, I made an awfully big assumption that turned out to be correct."

"Did you now?" His reply was slow, as if he was mulling over her words even as he spoke.

"I did," she nodded curtly, closing the subject. "Now, I believe I've lingered entirely too long and overstayed my welcome. So, I bid you good day, _Captain_ Sparrow. And good luck." She dipped him a small curtsey.

"My most gracious thanks!" he called as she walked away.

Mabel didn't imagine the hint of mockery in his voice, nor did she imagine the feel of his eyes on the back of her head as she made her way back to the Turners.

٭

Jack had once again sent out the same man who had found them, Peter, this time to escort them back to the beach. The walk was silent. They seemed all too busy fighting their way through the thick underbrush to speak, and by the time they reached the small beach Mabel wondered whether her dress was recognizable with all the stains and twigs she imagine must be on it. Peter disappeared into the forest quickly after bidding them a cheerful farewell (and patting Royce on the head), and the three began their walk up the steps into the fields surrounding Mabel's house.

"What have you told your driver?" Mabel questioned Will on the way up, curious as to how they managed to find a carriage driver who was willing to wait around so long and not ask questions.

Elizabeth was more than happy to answer for him. "Oh, Will is quite adept at driving carriages. We came here on our own to avoid questions," she informed the blind woman cheerily.

Mabel smiled humorously. "Very clever."

"Will thought so," Elizabeth answered again.

They reached the house without incident, and Mabel warned them to stay out of the sight of any windows as they left the front walkway. Will stopped her before he left and asked her if there was another route to the beach where Jack had his crew camped. She understood he was to return the next morning, but could only advise him to cut through the forest down to the ocean from the road, stay out of sight from any prying eyes and follow the shoreline. He thanked her and Elizabeth thanked her briefly before they left.

Now Mabel felt she was in a sort of race against time. The birds were chirping noisily in the trees surrounding her home, and she hurried out to the back garden where she managed to secure Royce to the post set in the ground, hushing him as she went. Then, she spent several moments listening through the back door for anyone before edging it open and slipping carefully into the house. She hoped her shoes weren't coated in mud, but didn't stop to check as she navigated the house as quickly and silently as she could, cane tapping lightly on the floor before her.

Two maids nearly stumbled upon her, but she pressed herself into open doorways and nooks to avoid being seen (or so she hoped). She could just imagine the questions that would be asked!

Mabel nearly flew up the stairs, cane clutched tightly in fear, and dashed to her chambers where she threw open the door and shut it carefully behind her. Once inside, she leaned the cane carefully against the wall before kicking her shoes off and bending her arms awkwardly to unlace and pull off her dress in a sloppy manner. She rushed to the wardrobe where she fumbled for the knob before pulling it open and hurriedly shoving the garments inside. Then, she fetched her nightdress and pulled it on as quickly as she could, her heart thumping painfully in her chest as she heard the clock in the corner of her room hit the hour. Six.

Feeling as though she was fighting impending doom, the blind woman staggered to her bed where she threw off the covers, jumped between the sheets and yanked the blankets back over her head. Breathing heavily, she listened as a knock came upon her door and Lettice's voice filtered through.

"Miss? Are you awake in there?"

Mabel took a deep breath and tried her best not to sound breathless. "Yes, Lettice! As always. Come in!" Feigning a yawn, she moved the blankets aside and stretched.

It was at that moment that she realized with a cold sort of horror that her hair was still done up and was likely to have a twig or two lodged somewhere in it.

"How are you this morning, Miss?" Lettice asked pleasantly, but Mabel couldn't help but wonder if that was quiet knowingness in her voice.

Nevertheless, she managed a brilliant smile for the maid. "I'm very well, Lettice. I had a positively _wonderful _sleep."

٭

**Author's Notes: **I'm so sorry for the delay! I should have had this chapter out three weeks ago, but things don't always happen the way I'd like them to. :P Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait. This is my longest chapter so far for this story, and I really liked writing it, so tell me what you think!

Thank you to:

**Ailidh** (I'm glad you like it so far!) **CaptainTish** (I try to update as quick as I can, I really do. But sometimes real life gets in the way. :P I tend to worry about my characters being too Mary-Sueish, so I'm glad Mabel's reasoning seemed to make sense.) **Ani**** Sparrow** (Curious, eh? Well, that's better than bad. :P I'm not very practiced with writing Will and Elizabeth, so if they start doing something OOC, please tell me!) **Runaway Pirate** (I'm glad you think it's interesting. I'd hate it if it was boring :P) **zareen** (Thanks for your comments. They mean a lot!) **Tiffany Sparrow** (Was Jack looking at a map? Maybe…;) And romance between Jack and Mabel? Maybe…) **doctress** (Eek! Thanks for the wonderful comments! I'm blushing, lol!) **VagrantCandy** (Hey, I don't mind you analyzing. I love the feedback.) **Takma-rierah **(I don't really believe in the filler chapters, because every chapter serves its purpose to forward the story. ;) And thank you for pointing out the lack of spacing between some words. I went back to fix it and then realized that all the chapters in both my POTC fics were like that! Damn that quick edit…)** phicaddictdpiratephantomprsnya **(Thank you!)

**--Cayenne Pepper Powder**


	8. An Impressive Engagement

**Chapter 8**

**An Impressive Engagement**

٭

The next several days to Mabel were a flurry of activity thriving with commotion and that heart pounding feeling of excitement and danger. And not all of it was due to the fact that Mabel was engaged in secret meetings with Will and Elizabeth Turner and a wanted pirate. That was part of it, yes, but the reason the rest of the household was up in a ruckus couldn't be further from the truth.

It had been perhaps four days ago as Mabel was readying herself for a day in the town (with Elizabeth Turner and gaggle of maids), brushing her hair and such, when Joyce had suddenly burst into her room, screaming and laughing, her shoes pounding so loudly on the wooden floor that Mabel would have thought she was dancing. And she had been.

Now, Mabel was well aware that Joyce had never been entirely proper (that particular honour went to Thomas), but having her sister dancing her bedroom like a madwoman and laughing ridiculously was quite enough.

"What's gotten into you?" Mabel demanded, carefully placing her comb on her vanity table.

Her younger sister flew at her and into her arms, and then proceeded to press several wet and sloppy kisses all over Mabel's cheeks. She shouted in protest, attempting to detangle her sister, but Joyce merely enveloped her in a hug. She pressed her cheek to her sister's, still shaking with laughter, and much to Mabel's surprise, she felt the dampness of tears. Joyce was crying. Or had been crying. And it was her duty to find out why.

"Oh, what's wrong?" she had finally embraced her sister back, and stood up to lead her to the bed. When they had both taken a seat Joyce began giggling uncontrollably once again, as if Mabel's question had been terribly funny—which it hadn't been.

"Nothing! Nothing's wrong! Everything is _perfect!_" The last line was said with such conviction that it startled Mabel.

"Why the tears, then?" she demanded, keeping a firm grip on her sister's arms. "And all around ridiculousness? What? Why are you laughing?""

Mabel felt her sister fall back onto the bed, breathless with laughter.

"I'm engaged!" she squeaked out between breaths.

Now to say that had been a surprise for Mabel was an understatement. She rightly felt as though someone had socked her in the stomach and then kicked her again while she was down.

"W-_what_?" she choked, attempting to take hold of her sister's hands. What a joke! What a terrible joke!

And still giggling, Joyce had placed her left hand in her sister's, and Mabel felt her ring finger—rightly named because there was a rather _large_ ring encircling there. Mabel was breathless with shock and could only manage to swallow the thick lump of surprise lodged in her throat.

"You…you're engaged?" It sounded as unbelievable as it was.

"Oh yes! I didn't think he would! But he did!" Joyce let out a dreamy sigh.

"_He _did!" Mabel exclaimed shrilly, feeling a surge of fierce fear jolting her to the bones. "_Who _is _he?_" she demanded sharply.

Joyce didn't seem the least bit intimidated, but manhandled her suddenly enraged older sister into an enthusiastic embrace.

"James Norrington," was the name whispered breathlessly into her ear.

Mabel stiffened, shock overtaking anger. "The—the commodore?"

She felt Joyce nod, and a choked laugh escaped Mabel's lips. "The commodore," she repeated weakly, a perceptible amount of disbelief in her voice. "He…him…You've been meeting the commodore by the docks? _He's _the big secret?"

"Yes!" Joyce giggled girlishly, nearly bouncing with excitement at this secret revealed.

Mabel attempted a meagre laugh. "You've been carrying out a secret affair with the commodore?" She froze suddenly as realization slapped her in the face. "You've been carrying out a secret affair with the _commodore_!" she accused loudly, the weight of her own words hitting her like a ten-pound brick.

Mabel disentangled herself from her sister's embrace and shot up from the bed. She was surprised at how shaky she was on her feet. "You...you…do you honestly have _any _idea what you've done! What you've done to yourself? What you've done to the commodore? Think of the gossip! Think of your reputation! You can't go secretly meeting a man and-and-and…" she stuttered, voice failing her.

"Calm down," Joyce's soothing voice interrupted her just as Mabel began realizing the secret irony of her panicked words.

The blind woman sank down onto the bed, trembling slightly. She felt slightly ill. "Good god, how can you be calm? You're engaged to Commodore James Norrington, whom you've been having a secret affair with for—for…_how long?"_

Joyce snickered. "Last night it was our three-month anniversary and he _proposed_! Oh! I couldn't wait to tell you but I didn't want to wake you last night…"

Mabel deflated and slipped her fingers into her now dishevelled hair. "Good god, you've given me a devilish headache…" she bemoaned, and sank back down onto the bed.

Joyce merely laughed and enveloped her sister into an entirely too-tight hug.

--

Strangely enough, their mother's reaction to Joyce's state of engagement was even more dramatic that Mabel's…

"You're _engaged?"_ was the shout heard around the world, twice as shrill as anything Mabel could come up with.

Eleanor's wine spewed forth from her mouth and the goblet thrown in the air to come down on the floor with an ear-splitting clatter. A shocked and tense silence reigned not in that one room, but the entire house, which seemed to suddenly tremble on its very foundations. This had happened at the dinner table, of course, with only the two daughters present. Royce was there as well—finally allowed in the house. He was there licking up the wine the second after it hit the floor.

"I am, mother," Joyce confirmed in such a bold way that Mabel thought she was as good as dead. You do not speak so surely to Eleanor Browning and live to tell the tale.

There was a spluttering from Eleanor's general direction, and Mabel picked up her own goblet of wine as if to hide behind it. She downed its entire contents, feeling sick to her stomach.

"You—you!" Eleanor was stumbling over her words. Never a good sign.

Mabel braced herself, keeping the goblet at her lips as if to appear occupied.

"You're engaged!"

Now, why did that particular shriek sound more happy than not, Mabel wondered.

And then, Joyce broke out into hysterical giggles.

"You're engaged!" Eleanor said again, this time the joy clearly heard in her voice. "And to the commodore!" By now, Mabel imagined, the maids and servants had tiptoed their way from various corners of the house and were now crowded behind the corners and doors listening into the conversation and whispering amongst themselves.

The news had indeed been broken.

"My little girl's engaged! Ruth, Wallace! Giles!" Mabel heard the grating sound of Eleanor's chair sliding over the wood of the floor as she bolted up from her seat. "Oh, look at that ring! Oh goodness! Oh my _goodness_!"

_Oh god. Honestly. _Mabel was in shock. She was certain her mother and sister were in the midst of an embrace, tears streaming down their cheeks whilst the maids and servants looked on.

The fact that Eleanor stopped for only a mere second to consider her daughter's behaviour the past three months before the joy of the occasion overcame her and she became a stuttering mass of tears, hugs and kisses would have greatly unnerved Mabel if she wasn't so distracted. Also, she may have found it disturbing that her mother was so overcome with happiness that her youngest daughter was engaged (before her eldest), if she hadn't been so relieved that Joyce had not been banished to some deep and dark corner of the house for the rest of eternity.

Well, perhaps that was a bit _much_.

As it was, Mabel was probably in more shock than anyone. With feelings so mixed, she hardly noticed the rousing of something sinister in the darkest corner of her soul, brought to life when her sister first broke the news but remaining and idle spark overshadowed by things more important.

And as it went, Eleanor's mood spread to the entire gentry of Port Royal as Joyce and the good commodore broke the news together (which involved much flaunting of Joyce's ridiculously large engagement ring.) Mabel imagined the smiles on their faces. She didn't know the commodore well, but she was quite ready to become good friends with him. She also tried not to form an opinion on the man, but she's heard mixed things from mixed people. They hadn't yet had a formal introduction—Joyce hadn't even brought him to dinner, but Mabel suspected that she would first meet her sister's sweetheart the night of the engagement dinner Eleanor was planning.

No, no an engagement dinner: an engagement _gala_, an engagement _banquet_.

Eleanor Browning was a woman to be reckoned with while planning such things. While everything was rather rushed—the date on the invites only a week from when they were sent, she had somehow found the time to invite the entire gentry of Port Royal as well as several other towns. It was to be held at the commodore's house. Mabel had never been there before.

Fortunately, the incoming party had her mother very distracted. Two days after the announcement Elizabeth had finally convinced Mabel to introduce her to Eleanor. Mabel thought it was an altogether bad idea, but it happened anyway. The two met when she came to collect Mabel for a day of dress fitting in Port Royal. It was the married woman's idea, of course. Elizabeth insisted she needed a new dress for her sister's engagement party. Mabel felt rather indifferent to the beauty of dresses, however, for obvious reasons (although she did enjoy the feel of some fabrics).

Thankfully, the meeting had gone well. Mabel had to lie about their meeting, of course, telling Eleanor that they'd bumped into each other at Mr Bentley's shoe shop, where they'd haggled over a pair of shoes they both wanted and neither ended up buying. Eleanor was thoroughly amused by that story.

Mabel had been told the carriage Elizabeth arrived in was magnificent, and her dress was stunning (the latest fashion from London), which might have staunched Eleanor's immediate dislike for the woman. Well, perhaps it was no immediate because she had always spoken somewhat badly of the lady who'd refused the commodore's hand in marriage and instead married below her rank. Mabel had warned Elizabeth of this.

Elizabeth needed no help, though. She put on a grand show of polished graciousness and manners, managing a smatter of suitable charming tactics and compliments, and Mabel could feel Eleanor's dislike crumbling as quickly as when a biscuit was dipped in tea. The commodore had someone else in mind for marriage now, anyhow.

In the end, Eleanor had shocked Mabel by seeing them into their carriage and sending them off with an invitation to dinner for Elizabeth and her husband.

Needless to say, Mabel was relieved.

--

Part of Elizabeth's taking reason for Mabel to the dress shop had been because she could no longer visit her husband any time she wished. Will had, with some regret, told his wife to stay in Port Royal—away from Jack and his crew while they worked on repairs. Away from danger. Apparently, Elizabeth harboured some resentment over that. After the lady working there had taken Mabel's measurements, Elizabeth steamed forwards into a heartfelt tirade concerning inconsiderate husbands and rotten pirates.

"But of course he still doesn't seem to remember that I can take quite good care of myself! It's as though he can't remember that I was right _there,_ right _beside _him the whole time we were fighting off un—I mean, Barbossa's crew and such!" Elizabeth ranted heatedly as they stood in the dressmaker's shop picking out fabrics for Mabel's new dress.

Mabel preferred to keep her mouth shut.

"Can you believe him, Mabel?" the younger woman asked, holding a length of soft fabric in her hands yet paying no attention to it.

Mabel smiled. "Well, he _does_ have a point," she began, and lowered her voice considerably. "Spending the day with pirates isn't exactly a…a _bright _thing to do…"

Huffing, Elizabeth pushed the fabric into the blind woman's hands. "Here, tell me if you like the feel of this," she muttered before continuing with her tirade. "But if he knew that I have no problem with it! As much as I hate to admit it, I have missed Jack over the months. But Will won't let me speak to him! It's not as though he can visit whenever the whim comes upon him, you know." She took a deep breath. "Do you like it?"

"Not at all, it's far too scratchy," Mabel replied while setting the fabric back down in the pile they'd accumulated.

"Yes, I thought so too. And I think a lighter blue would go better with your hair…and you're eyes…" she stated softly, and then sighed. "I don't like this at all, Mabel."

"What do you suppose we do?" Mabel asked humorously, resisting the temptation to tune the younger woman out. Jack Sparrow was an interesting character, to be sure—and she wouldn't protest against meeting him again—but the thought of what trouble she could get in being seen around such people made her feel rather ill. She was beginning to feel drained by putting up such an act of falsity around her family.

Elizabeth sniffed, and Mabel imagined her hands were on her hips and a frown was on her face. "Well, if it were up to me I'd be down there right at this very moment!"

**--**

As far as repairs went, Will had used money Jack supplied him to buy more than enough wood and nails for repairing the ship (and for maintenance for quite a while), as well as several yards of new sail which was now in the process of being dyed black.

Hard labour was the only thing left to do. It was the most difficult and gruelling task Will had put himself to yet. For the past four days he had been helping Jack's crew patch up the _Pearl_, careen her, and fix her sails (although he was terrible with a needle), and while they'd made surprising progress he felt as if the work would never end. All he wanted to do was go home and see his wife, but Elizabeth wasn't in the best of moods with him of late. So he worked until his bones ached and then went home, only to be given the cold shoulder, and the cycle continued.

Presently, Will stopped his hammering on the side of the ship and wiped his sweating brow. He squinted up at the sky where the sun teetered directly above them and then to the ocean. The sunlight pierced through the waves gently rolling in, colouring the waters a brilliant blue and green.

"Let's take a break, then," Jack said from beside him, dropping his hammer and stretching languidly. His thin shirt was damp with sweat, but he didn't seem tired.

Will sent him an odd look but didn't protest. Together, they scaled down the small makeshift scaffold that had been thrown together to reach areas of repair that weren't on ground level. They trudged through the shallow water and onto the beach, where Jack collapsed with a groan of contentment. Will lowered himself in a much more graceful manner, watching the crew bustling about the beach and the ship to the sound of hammering and sawing.

"Everything's coming along well," the blacksmith commented lightly.

Pulling a flask from his belt, Jack took a quick swig before offering it to Will. "Aye. I reckon a few more days and we'll at least be ready to sail for Tortuga."

Will took the proffered flask. "Tortuga? Are you sure this Hugh Vanderveer won't be hiding out there waiting for you?"

Jack gave him a serious look, his dark eyes grave. "At this point, I don't know anything, Will. But I'd rather take my chances in Tortuga where I've a friend or two than stay here much longer with the bloody commodore at my back."

Will nodded, but didn't say anything. They passed the flask between each other until all the grog within was gone and Jack tossed it carelessly behind him. He gave Will a wry grin.

"Gibbs doesn't know I took that," he laughed.

Will smiled. "Jack," he started slowly, and the pirate arched an eyebrow at him. "It occurred to me that you've never told Elizabeth or me exactly how you met Mabel."

Jack's look became pensive. "Ah, Miss Mabel. Lovely lass, don't you agree?" He grinned suddenly. "She was out with that cursed mutt of hers; the one I reckon doesn't leave her even when she sleeps. It's a wonder the beast's owner doesn't miss it—or maybe the Lady Browning only wanted to be rid of the thing. I sure would."

"Jack," Will scolded him, yet was befuddled by the pirate's words.

"Oh, I was telling ye how I met the lass," Jack smiled. "Well, t'was the same day I ran the _Pearl_ ashore. Early morning, not a soul in sight. Several men and myself went scouting the area to check for danger—commodores and the like. What we came upon was a bloody dog. And then there came a woman, chasing after the thing and shouting and generally making a big racket. Silly chit, I say, running about the beach with no one but her dog an hour after dawn."

Will had to agree. "I admit Mabel sometimes doesn't seem to have a lick of sense about her, but she's rather clever at the same time."

Jack stifled a snort. "Ah, well, we hid in the bushes and the dog starts doing what a dog does. Digging holes and sniffing around. Then the beast catches our scent and gets all stiff, his hair standing on end, growling and baring his teeth," Jack painted a mental picture while gesticulating with his hands and imitating a snarl. "That girl must have sharp senses, because she catches on right away and calls for us to come out. And, never to refuse a lady's wish, we come out of hiding. By then the dog was looking a mite bit hungry, so I figure we can go our separate ways and avoid any trouble—but _she _wouldn't have any of it. The lass goes on to threaten us, though she didn't need to 'cause her dog was doing plenty. So I pull my gun on her, but she doesn't seem to notice, you see." Jack grinned slightly. "In fact, she didn't even flinch when she first saw us—and we weren't unarmed and didn't look like gentlemen, I'll tell ye. That was when I put two and two together and figured out she was as blind as a bat. As it went, we did part on peaceful terms. I asked her not to come back to the beach in turn for not causing her any harm." He let out a barking laugh and stared pensively at the water. "Aye, and look what she does. A day later, I find her in the forest because her bloody dog's gone and run into our camp. That was the day I told her my name was John Smith, though obviously she didn't believe me." Jack faced Will and frowned unpleasantly when he saw the younger man was wearing a smile.

"You're angry with her because she outwitted you, and dare I say it—_helped_ you," Will concluded with a laugh. "Though she was quite trusting of you, wasn't she?"

Jack decided not to comment on the blacksmith's earlier words. "Aye, either she's incredibly perceptive or incredibly stupid," he said shortly, and stood, brushing the sand from his breeches.

Will followed his lead. "I'd say she's a bit starved for exciting activity," he offered as Jack began making his was back to the ship.

Jack turned to give him an odd look, "What's a maid need of that?"

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Will caught up to the pirate. "Well, considering the Browning family is a bit uptight, especially Mabel's mother from what I hear from Elizabeth, and her brother is a proper military man—" he cut himself off when Jack stopped short.

"_What_?" he asked sharply.

Will turned to face a suspicious Jack. "What?" he repeated, clearly confused.

"You mean she…" A sudden revelation had hit Jack, and he couldn't help but laugh. "Good god, the lady is a fox! She even had me fooled!" He noticed that Will was looking at him strangely. "And I suppose she never said a word to you?"

"Of _what_?"

Jack nearly crowed with delight. "Master William, it seems that deal Miss Mabel shares my passion for deceit. Not at all what I thought her. Not a maid," he mused with a grin, "Certainly a lady, and a daring one at that."

Will merely shook his head in wonder at the eccentric captain. "Well, she knows what she wants, and doesn't let her…disability…get in the way."

"Aye, very much like Elizabeth," Jack mused. "Excluding the blind bit, of course."

It was Will's turn to cock an eyebrow at the pirate.

"Say," Jack continued, "How is dear Elizabeth. I haven't seen her since that first day. Keeping her in the house like a proper wife? Finally asserting yourself as the head of the household, are you?" he asked cheekily.

Will was about to berate the pirate, but he received his punishment from a passing Anamaria, who smacked him hard over the back of the head. Jack yelped like a beaten dog, and Will merely sighed, watching the female pirate stroll away, head held high and shoulders thrown back. She began barking orders at a group of pirates who seemed to be taking turns puffing on a pipe while lounging in the sand.

"Bloody woman," Will heard Jack mutter under his breath before he continued on his way.

"Well, Jack, I can't say you didn't deserve it."

--

It was perhaps midday when there was a commotion at the east end of the camp where the beach gave way to forest. Will was in the middle of a somewhat unwanted lesson in caulking with Jerome, who was quite adamant he learn how to properly stuff the caulk and pitch between the cracks in the planks, as if it were a life saving skill. The smell of the stuff was burning his nose.

The sudden sound of a familiar barking distracted him, however, and he completely abandoned his work to turn and look for the source of the commotion. He was dismayed to see that the distant forms of his wife and Mabel had just made their way into camp and were being greeted by some of the crew. He noticed that they had also caught Jack's attention, and the pirate captain was hurriedly making his was towards them.

Without muttering even an apology to Jerome, Will scaled down the scaffold and hit the shallow water with a splash. Then, with a determined stride, he stalked through the water and up the beach. The crowd of pirates gathered around the women more or less dispersed when they noticed the dark look on the blacksmith's face, leaving only the two women, Jack and Gibbs.

"Well, what a lovely surprise," Jack was saying, though Will couldn't tell if he was speaking the truth. "I can't say I was expecting you two ladies today. I was under the impression that—"

"I asked you not to come down here," Will finished, and three pairs of eyes were immediately on him.

Elizabeth was grasping Mabel's hand while the blind woman held her cane in the other. Jack's eyes were darting uneasily between the married couple. Elizabeth was the one to break eye contact, nudging Mabel in the side slightly. The blind woman came to attention, obviously aware of the tension around her, and smiled easily.

Elizabeth turned a brilliant smile on the pirate. "Jack, we've brought you biscuits," she said, and Mabel held up a basket with closed top that had previously gone unnoticed.

"From my kitchen, baked fresh by my cook Wallace," Mabel added quickly.

Jack's eyes darted uneasily from the basket to the women and then to Will, his hands half outstretched and fingers twitching, before he slowly reached out to grasp the handle. Mabel released her grasp and Elizabeth beamed. Then, everyone watched intently as he opened one side of the basket and took out a small biscuit. He tried to ignore their stares as he took a bite and chewed.

The two women were expectant. Will had his hands on his hips and firm set to his jaw.

Jack raised his eyebrows and swallowed with a smile. "Delicious. Thank you," he told them, but it was far from the truth. The biscuits were hard and tough and tasted more like dry dirt that food. Not that he'd had a real biscuit in a long time, mind you.

But he'd made the two women were ecstatic, and he supposed that's what mattered.

Elizabeth was grinning at Mabel, who looked more than pleased with herself. "See, didn't I say you could cook with a bit of help from me!" she exclaimed. "I'll have to try that recipe more often, now."

"And I'll have to get a copy as well," Mabel grinned.

Jack looked visibly ill and swallowed thickly. Discretely, he passed the basket to Gibbs, who cocked an eyebrow at him questioningly. Jack shook his head quickly before turning back, all smiles.

Elizabeth turned her attention to Will, who was now looking more bewildered than angry. She released Mabel and started towards him with another charming smile. "Oh Will, take a break and walk with me. And you'll have to try one of our biscuits later, as well!" She latched onto his arm and began pulling him away down the beach, leaving Jack, Gibbs and Mabel behind.

Jack turned to Gibbs and leaned forward. "Toss 'em," he whispered lowly. Gibbs nodded and shuffled off.

Then, straightening, the pirate captain regarded Mabel, who almost seemed to be gazing out at the water. Her hands were tightly clenching the handle of her cane. Jack took a step forward, eager to speak to the woman now. She'd told him more lies than he could count, and probably still had a few hidden right under his nose, yet he was surprised to realize that he wanted to know more about her.

"So, Miss Browning, I hear your brother is in the navy," he began nonchalantly. "A lieutenant under the commodore, I understand."

Mabel's whole body stiffened as he spoke, and she turned to him with a stiff smile. How had he found that out? "Yes, one of the commodore's right hand men," she said, attempting to raise her chin and look at least a little imposing. Now that he knew who she was, she might as well try to act the part.

Jack stopped but a few feet from her, his eyes studying her face. "And your father was also a man of the navy?" he asked, but she suspected he already knew the answer.

Mabel tilted her chin up. "He was," she said shortly, the paused. "Do you remember our agreement, Captain?"

Jack arched a brow. "I can't say that I do."

"I keep my lips sealed and in return you don't harm me," Mabel recounted, swallowing nervously.

Jack grinned. "Ah, yes. I recall making such an agreement now…" he paused. "Yet I also recall that you didn't keep your end of the deal."

Mabel looked flabbergasted, as if he'd just slapped her in the face. "W-_what_?" How dare he presume such a thing! After everything she'd risked just to help such a lowly, dirty—

"Well, you told the Turner's did you?"

_Oh_.

Mabel attempted to regain some of her dignity. "Well! That's completely different! I told them you were here so they could help you, not lock you up!"

Jack sighed dramatically. "Yet, it's a broken accord, m'lady. What do you want me to do?" he asked demurely, quite enjoying the way her face was slowly turning red and the way her hands grasped her cane in a death-grip. _Serves the meddling lass right…_

She took a deep breath to calm her frazzled nerves. "I'll have you know, _Captain," _she said the word so contemptuously that he nearly winced, "That if you touch one hair on my head with any such intention to harm me, you'll put your entire crew and ship in danger. The entire Navy will be out for your blood like a pack of wild dogs," she told him serious sincerity.

Jack refrained from pointing out that he was already in that position and instead told her in a very disarming way, "Well then, it's a very good thing that the thought hadn't even crossed my mind."

Mabel could hear the amusement in his voice and realized that he had been meaning to rile her the whole time.

The nerve!

And that was it. Mabel took a deep breath before resolutely shouldering past the pirate captain, cane tapping furiously in the sand in front her. Jack paused a moment, grinning, before turning and following her quickly, catching up easily and falling in step beside her as she led the way down the beach.

"What do you want from me, Captain Sparrow?" she demanded irately, feeling quite inclined to whack him with her cane.

Jack grinned, clasping his hands behind his back to keep them still. "Oh, nothing at all. I just have an insatiable curiosity when it comes to such…anomalies such as yourself. In fact, I find it quite remarkable that a woman like you, with so many military men in the family, is so willing to go behind their backs and help a pirate."

"I believe we've already been through this, Captain," she told him irately.

"Aye," Jack admitted gruffly, "But I'm still a wee bit curious." He didn't wait for a reply, as he noticed she was headed for the _Pearl_ where a group of his men had surrounded the Turners and were now happily chattering away at them, laughing with Elizabeth, who had Will on her arm and seemed to be entertaining them all.

"Hey! Get back to work over there, ye motley minded dogs!"

Mabel halted, surprising Jack. He turned quickly, noting that she looked shocked by the way he addressed his crew.

"Don't worry, they love my endearments for them," he told her lowly, and then swiftly nodded to a passing Cotton carrying a stack of wood. "Keep the good work up, Cotton, and tell Gibbs to report to me within the hour on our progress today."

"Wind in the sails! Wind in the sails!" the parrot squawked loudly, startling Mabel.

"His parrot," Jack explained shortly, watching at Cotton walked away. "He's trained the thing to talk for him, since he got his tongue cut out."

Mabel didn't want to ask how he could possibly understand a parrot and shook her head, starting forward again.

However, without warning, Jack grasped hold of her arm and swung her around in another direction, linking his arm with hers in the same motion.

Mabel gave a short yelp of surprise, stumbled, and then immediately untangled her arm from his grasp, stopping abruptly with a look of anger upon her face. "Captain Sparrow, I'd kindly ask you not to…toss me around like that! I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own, and I should like it to be that way!" she snapped shrilly, causing the pirate to wince.

Jack realized his look of surprise was unseen to her. "Forgive me; I was under the impression that a gentleman always escorts a lady. My apologies," he replied smoothly.

He sounded so sufficiently pitiful that Mabel immediately felt foolish for getting angry with him, and didn't even snap off a reply involving the scathing words, "pirates aren't gentlemen." Instead, she took a deep breath and managed an apologetic smile. It wasn't his fault, she told herself. She had been the one getting angry at him.

"No, it is I who should be apologizing," she amended. "You're absolutely right," she told him, and even offered her arm out for him to take.

For obvious reasons, she missed Jack's self-satisfied grin as he once again linked her arm with his.

"All's forgiven?" Jack offered, and she nodded.

"Of course."

Jack led her up the beach, circling around his crew before heading for the water where the giant form of the beached ship loomed over to their left. Mabel noticed that the sound of the surf hitting the beach was louder and figured they were no more than twenty feet from the ocean. Her cane, being unused, was clutched in her left hand. She licked her lips nervously when she realized how close to him she really was, so close that she could smell the salty ocean on him and hear that curious jingle that always accompanied his person. She was almost content with his silence but realized she much better preferred him talking—not just because he was a clever talker, but because she enjoyed the sound of his voice.

Jack stopped then, and they simply stood, arms intertwined. Mabel breathed in the smell of the air.

"Do you like the ocean, Miss Browning?" Jack's voice broke their silence.

Mabel thought that was a rather odd question, but coming from an odd man…

"Well, I suppose I have to considering I live along the coast of an island surrounded by it," she told him candidly.

Beside her, Jack laughed. She was very aware that he'd not yet let go of her arm—something a gentleman _would_ do—yet refused to say anything.

"That wasn't what I meant," he told her with amusement. "Do you like it, or would you rather be living in mainland England where there's nothing by grass an' hills?" He looked down at her curiously.

Mabel seemed thoughtful. "I like—the sound of it. And the smell. And I couldn't imagine living somewhere where I couldn't hear it and know it was there…"

"Aye, that's the same way I feel, love." Jack's eyes strayed to the horizon, a thousand questions running through his head and most of which he contained. "Have ye ever seen it?"

Mabel swallowed. In her dreams, she had. In her dreams, she had seen the way it darkened during a storm, and the way waves larger than her house crashed down upon ships and swallowed them whole. She imagined the way such a wave had come upon her father's ship, crashed down, and left nothing but driftwood in its wake. She dreamed that she was the one drowning in its deep, dark, cold depths.

"No," she answered after a moment.

_A pity, _Jack thought, but restrained himself from saying it aloud. "Well," he began with a drawl and tugged the blind woman several feet to their right where a large, smooth tree trunk had been washed up onshore. He sat down, pulling her with him. "Down you go, love—Now, It's big, and flat as a pancake on a calm day and peevish as a stuck pig during a storm. But I'm sure you've heard that before."

Mabel managed to sit down fairly gracefully, and propped her cane against the log before attempting to smooth her skirts out.

"Well, not quite in such a manner, Captain Sparrow," she smiled at him.

They fell into silence again, sitting side by side and content that way. Mabel listened to Jack's crew working along the beach, hammering and sawing away. The low murmur of many voices was disturbed occasionally by a sharp bout of laughter, an order, and even more surprisingly—a chorus of a song. Mabel tried to understand the words but found there was too much hooting and laughing in between words to understand it.

Smiling to herself, she wondered about the ship they were working on. What it looked like. How magnificent was it? Did it truly resemble a ghostly spectre of a ship, with black stained wood and black sails?

"How long until the repairs to your ship are complete?" she wondered aloud.

Beside her, Jack sighed. "I figure five days tops. This kind of repair is best done at a dock, and I plan on sailing the _Pearl_ to Tortuga in at least that time," he told her. "Having the commodore less than a town away is making me a bit antsy, if you know what I mean."

She cast him a small smile. "Might I reassure you by telling you the commodore has more or less given up the search for you around Port Royal—if my brother is telling the truth, of course. And he has no reason not to."

Jack glanced at her before fixing his eyes on some far away point across the waters. "Aye, but the dear old commodore ain't my only problem, lass," he said darkly.

Mabel thought she knew what he was speaking of, but chewed her lower lip, hesitant to speak. "It has to do with that map you were speaking about the other day, doesn't it?"

Jack resisted the urge to laugh. He knew it had been a bad idea to tell his story in front of strangers, no matter how helpful they might happen to feel.

"That man, the one you stole the map from," Mabel continued. "You think he's still looking for you? To take it back?"

Jack eyed her closely. "Not just take it back, Miss Browning," he told her slowly. "I've no doubt in my mind that should he find me, he'll kill me and anyone involved with keeping that map from him." He watched Mabel frown, her brow knotting as the information sank in. Perhaps he had said too much. "But enough of that subject—something I'd rather not think about, savvy?" He switched the topic quickly. "I noticed you don't have that blasted dog with you today."

Mabel managed a weak smile, but thoughts of revenge and death still clung to her. "I'm supposed to be getting fitted for a dress, and dogs aren't usually allowed in the tailor's." The tone in her voice suggested that not allowing large dirty animals in clothing shops was preposterous.

Jack cracked a grin. "Ah, a dress for what, might I ask? Or are you one of those ladies who go out buying new dresses as a hobby?"

Mabel laughed and smiled in a way Jack thought was very becoming. "Not quite, Captain. This is a special occasion, you might say," she told him, and suddenly looked decidedly morose. "My sister is getting married. It's a dress for the engagement party, you see."

It was hard not to catch onto whatever the blind woman was feeling. "To whom, might I ask?"

Mabel ruefully wondered what the pirate's response would be if she told him her sister was marrying the man who was intent on hanging him. She decided she wouldn't tempt a pirate further. "Oh, just another navy man. Keeping it in the family, you might say," she added wryly.

Jack wouldn't go into reasons why Mabel was seemingly unhappy her sister was being married. He had an idea, but it was better not to get involved. Don't get unnecessarily involved in anything, was his motto, along too many others involving avoiding, deceit, cheating, and general mischief and unlawfulness.

"Be glad it's not you then," he told her drolly.

"Well said, Captain." Mabel chuckled, unable to contain her smile. This man really wasn't all that bad, now that her temper had gone. She couldn't recall the last time someone had made her smile so much. "But tell me something about _yourself_. You've managed to remain somewhat of a mystery."

Jack wouldn't say that he'd like to keep being such, but couldn't resist her request simply because his ego wouldn't allow it.

"Well, there's more than a few things I can say about myself, none which are too flattering," Jack started, scratching his head thoughtfully. "How about a story instead?" he suggested.

Mabel could hear his eagerness. "A story?"

"Aye, one of my greatest adventures yet. You haven't heard any of my adventures, have you?" he asked.

"Well, certainly not from you, I haven't," she replied. "From others with a less than favourable outlook on you, however…"

"Let me tell you they're all lying. Its better heard from the one they're about," Jack said glibly. "Now, this particular tale began over ten years ago, back when I was still getting my legs in piracy…"

Mabel didn't know how long they sat for or how long Jack regaled her with his tale of the treacherous mutiny of his first mate Barbossa and his time spent searching for his lost ship until the day he rescued Elizabeth Turner from drowning, an event which turned out to be the catalyst for one of his most dangerous ventures yet. When he began speaking of curses and talking skeletons, she snorted with disbelief, upon which he demanded indignantly if she thought he was lying. She was sceptical, with good reason, but found the story simply wouldn't make sense without such things. She was enraptured not just with his way of storytelling (so exaggerated and humorous she couldn't help but think he had elaborated heavily on the story), but the sound of his gruff voice weaving a spell over her senses. She believed she could almost see what he told her with her blind eyes. Subsequently, she was so wrapped up in his words that when Elizabeth shouting her name, interrupted him, she felt as if someone had jarred her awake from a pleasant dream.

"Mabel!" the younger woman called again. "We must leave if we want to make it back for tea!"

Jack had stopped speaking, his eyes finding Elizabeth several yards away with Will by her side, waving them over.

"Oh," Mabel exclaimed. "How long has it been?" she asked hurriedly.

Jack tilted his head, squinting up at the sun. "An hour, perhaps."

Mabel was surprised Jack had managed to talk for so long, but at the same time disappointed. "Well, I'm terribly sorry…" She truly wanted to hear the rest of his tale, even though she could figure out the ending quite fine herself. To hear it from his lips was completely different, however. "We weren't planning on staying so long…"

Jack resisted the urge to wave her off. "Another time, then," he told her simply, as if they had all the time in the world.

"I'm afraid this visit was more for Elizabeth than me," Mabel told him regretfully, standing from the log.

Following suit, Jack retrieved her cane from the ground. "Aye. No matter how much Will tries, he'll never have Elizabeth on a rope—not that he'd want to, either," he told her amusedly. "However, I can't say I haven't enjoyed you're charming company."

Mabel contained a smirk. "The same to you, Captain Sparrow." She went to reach for her cane, but Jack gently caught her hand and she felt the cool wood of the handle pressed into her palm. Somewhat startled, she thanked him. His hand lingered on her own, and they both seemed to freeze for a moment.

Elizabeth called her again from across the beach, distracting Mabel. She turned back to Jack quickly.

"Perhaps we'll meet again before you leave," she said, and continued without letting him have a word in edgewise. "And if not…well I have to admit it wasn't entirely unpleasant meeting you."

Jack chuckled. "Likewise," he offered, clasping his hands behind his back.

"I…" Mabel looked as though she wished to say more, but lost the battle with herself and sighed. "Goodbye then, Captain." She turned away.

Jack watched her but didn't move. "Aye, and the next time we meet I'll let ye call me Jack!" he called after her, and was certain she heard even though she didn't turn. Elizabeth met her halfway and began talking excitedly in what looked to be a hushed tone.

His eyes met hers over Mabel's head, and he thumbed up the tip of his hat in mock salute, grinning cheekily. Elizabeth smiled back and waved before linking arms with Mabel and guiding her away.

--

**Author's Notes: **My apologies. I've been sitting on this chapter for far too long! I finally gave in a posted it before the next chapter of TTWW, which is on a temporary hiatus while I rework and edit it to death. ;) I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up. I'm at a point in the story where I could go in two completely opposite directions, and I'm still trying to figure out which to take.

Starting with this chapter, I'll be attempting to use the new reply system. Wish me luck! ;)

Review, mes amis!


	9. Strangers and Family, Balls and Battles

**Author's Note: **Now, the question here is whether this update is merely a figment of your imagination. It seemed that way to me for a while. Thank you all for being so patient and thank god I finally got this over with.

Consider the monstrous size of this chapter a sincere apology for the delay (It was originally two separate chapters, hence the double title).

Forgive any spelling mistakes but please let me know of any in a review. I've gone over it more times than I can count but I'm sure there's still many I missed.

Hopefully I'll get around to editing it again soon. For now, though, I just wanted it posted.

One last note: I will be changing the title of this story to **The Coveted Map** shortly after posting this chapter. It's simple, yet suits the story more than the present title, methinks.

That's all!

-CPP

--

**Chapter 9 **

**Strangers and Family (Balls, Banquets and Battles)**

--

It was two days prior to the engagement party that Mabel found herself in Elizabeth's company once more. They were in, of all places, Will's smithy, attempting to clean the place up a bit while he was gone. Mabel wasn't stupid, and knew that Elizabeth was only doing so because she (despite cheery appearances), was feeling rather sorry about treating Will so coldly the past week. The neighbours would probably faint if they knew such an esteemed lady was doing such menial work. And Mabel was only helping her because, well, she desperately needed to get out of the house before her mother and sister drove her absolutely mad with talk of wedding dresses, banquet dresses, dancing dresses, party dresses, and any other manner of dress that was available.

And just because dresses was the one topic that Mabel was trying to avoid, Elizabeth had, albeit unknowingly, begun chatting about them.

"_My _wedding dress was absolutely beautiful, Mabel! White as snow – I would have thought it made of clouds if it hadn't been so scratchy!" Elizabeth went on. "I did like it though, and my father had it shipped in from England – as a result the corset to go with it seemed much smaller than usual! But then I went and spilled punch all over the thing, silly me. Father was furious, of course. I was rather relieved to be out of it."

Mabel hummed an inattentive reply as she ran a damp cloth over the lone table in the shop. Elizabeth was wielding a broom and Mabel would have been thankful not to see all the dust that was being stirred up if she'd known about it.

"I wonder what your sister's dress will look like!"

"I wouldn't doubt if it was white," Mabel replied absently.

Elizabeth stopped cleaning to stare at the blind woman. "It has just occurred to me that you don't seem very enthusiastic about this wedding, Mabel," she said, and it sounded suspiciously like a scolding.

"Oh, I am!" Mabel assured her immediately. "Just not in the way you are."

Elizabeth sniffed. "Well, in what _way _are you excited, then?"

Mabel, too, stopped her cleaning. "Well, I'm _more_ happy about the fact that my sister's actually found someone than what her wedding – dress, flowers, shoes, location – will look like."

"You doubted your sister would marry?" Elizabeth enquired curiously.

"No," Mabel said quickly, but then ruined it. "And yes."

"Yes?" Elizabeth echoed uncertainly.

"Yes, I have doubted it because…because…well she's rather…" Mabel cut herself short, cringing. "I can't say it!"

"Why not?" Elizabeth asked.

"Well it's not polite, for one. And second, she's getting married soon. I might doom the wedding with all my gloom." Mabel sighed wearily.

"You're gloomy?" Elizabeth repeated almost dumbly. "Well I hadn't noticed."

Mabel smiled triumphantly. "That's very good. I'm doing a very good job of keeping it to myself – and no I'm not telling you what _it _is!"

Just as Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply to that, there was a loud knocking on the front door to the smithy. She shut it immediately, and regarded Mabel, who seemed to be staring at the door with a perplexed look on her face. Royce, who had tagged along for the cleaning expedition, raised his head drowsily from his spot on the floor and regarded the door with a very similar look.

"I thought you said you hung a closed sign out there?" Mabel said curiously.

Elizabeth paused for a moment, thinking quite the same thing. "I did."

"Well, perhaps he can't read," Mabel offered.

Whoever was outside began knocking again – this time just a bit louder.

"I somehow doubt that," Elizabeth murmured, setting her broom against the table and patting down her dusty skirts. "Oh, don't I look like a right mess!"

As she fussed slightly with her hair the person outside began an insisted pounding on the door.

"He's getting impatient, I imagine," Mabel observed somewhat disdainfully.

Elizabeth promptly gave up on her hair when the pounding started getting louder and stomped towards the door. "For goodness sakes! – _Just a moment!"_ she hollered, then to herself, "I hope they don't notice I'm absolutely covered in dust!"

Mabel felt her way around the table and crouched down to take hold of Royce's collar just as Elizabeth unlocked the door. The dog made a low whining sound deep in his throat, but Mabel tapped him lightly on the nose to shush him.

Elizabeth opened the door a crack, just enough to see that the person outside was a rather scruffy looking man perhaps in his mid thirties.

"Yes?" she asked politely, her eyes straying to his waist where a pistol was tucked neatly into his belt.

"I'm looking for Will Turner. This is his smithy, I presume?" the man asked, and Elizabeth detected a strange accent in his voice.

She narrowed her eyes the slightest. Perhaps this man _couldn't_ read. "Yes. But I'm sorry; we're closed for the day. My husband is out delivering orders. Perhaps if you come back tomorrow–"

"I'm afraid my business cannot wait," he said, cutting her off.

Elizabeth gripped the door just a bit tighter, her face twisting into a look of disgruntled annoyance. "Well it must, because _my husband _is not here," she told him more firmly. "If you could tell me your name I'd be happy to inform Will that you're looking for him."

He regarded her quietly a moment with icy blue eyes. "Dominicus Drake. I'm a merchant in need of your husband's help for my business while I'm in town." His tone was not at all pleasant.

Behind Elizabeth, Mabel had been approaching with Royce by her side, and she nudged Elizabeth over just the slightest, opening the door wider and allowing the man to see the large, shaggy dog by her side.

"Well, Mr. Drake, as Mrs. Turner has said, Mr. Turner is out on business today. If you'd like to place an order, however, we would be very happy to relay your request to him," Mabel told the man in a voice hard enough to chip ice.

Elizabeth watched how Drake's eyes fixed on the dog a moment before raising to peer at the blind woman's face.

"Well, in that case I will return another day," he said, almost graciously.

Elizabeth nearly sighed with relief. "I shall inform my husband that you are town."

He took a step back, staring at the both for a long moment. "Well, thank you. I will take my leave, Mrs. Turner, Mrs…?"

Mabel swallowed slightly. "Browning. _Miss_ Browning."

"_Miss _Browning," he corrected himself with another step backwards. Even while bowing his head slightly, his piercing eyes never left them. "Good day."

And with that, he turned and walked out of their sight.

Both women heaved a great sigh and Elizabeth quickly closed the door and latched it shut. They leaned against it for a moment, Mabel letting Royce free from her grasp.

"Well," Elizabeth began with an uneasy laugh, realizing that they had both felt the same animosity coming from the man. "That was certainly unexpected."

"And very curious," Mabel added.

"Indeed," Elizabeth uttered.

--

"Where have you been?"

Elizabeth was up on her feet, demanding, when Will returned home that evening. It was past ten at night and completely dark outside. Most the staff had gone to sleep for the night. She discarded the book she'd been reading while she worried over her husband and faced him with her hands positioned angrily on her hips. She tried her best to look intimidating.

"The same place as every day this week," Will muttered, almost irritably, and began to shrug off his overcoat. "With Jack and the crew, trying to fix that damned ship of his."

Elizabeth frowned slightly, thrown off by his tone. "You missed supper."

Will sat down on their bed and began tugging off his boots. "Jack wanted me to stay and sup with the crew."

Elizabeth sighed to herself and chewed on her bottom lip a moment. "Do I need to remind Jack that you are _not_ one of his crew?" she asked sharply. "And why didn't you send word?"

Will sighed as his second boot came off. He wiggled his toes slightly, grimacing. "We needed all the hands, and I don't think Jack would want to risk sending someone to the house."

That hadn't been the answer she'd been looking for. Silently, Elizabeth walked around to take a seat beside her husband.

Will could immediately feel the anger rolling off her in waves.

"Elizabeth?"

She crossed her arms silently, and for a moment she resembled the spoiled young girl she'd been when they were younger.

"What is it?" He asked gently. "I'm sorry I stayed later than usual and I'm sorry I didn't send word."

Lips pursed, she regarded him with an arched brow.

"I promise it will never happen again?" Will offered up meekly.

Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth heaved a sigh. "Alright…"

Frowning, Will moved closer to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "What's wrong? Besides…_me_…?"

Swallowing, Elizabeth reached up to lay her hand over his on her shoulder. "Today…I was cleaning up the smithy a bit…Mabel was there with me…"

Will nodded, urging her to continue. "And thank you for that, by the by."

She sighed again. "Well…a man came to the door, despite the closed sign…and he wouldn't go away until I told him where you were."

Immediately, she felt Will stiffen. "And did you?"

She shot up from the bed, fixing him with a deathly glare. "Of course not! What sort of fool do you think I am?" she cried indignantly, turning away from him with an frustrated huff.

"No, you're not a fool at all!" Will tried to amend, standing as well in an attempt to placate his wife. "I just…I'm a bit…well," he stuttered a moment before giving up. "…What did you tell him?"

Blowing out a gust of air, Elizabeth whirled on her husband. "I told him you were delivering orders, just as you asked me to!" she told him.

"Then what's the problem?" Will stared up at her with a sort of naivety that stunned her.

"Well, I haven't gotten there yet!" Elizabeth fumed. "The problem _is_, that this man simply would not give and nearly broke the door down trying to get in! If Royce hadn't been there I'm very sure he would have!"

Will's eyes widened considerably at the thought of his wife being in danger.

"And then he _demands_ where you are! Mabel nearly had to fight him off with her cane!" This of course was an exaggeration, but Elizabeth felt a little elaboration would help her husband understand her concerns. "And to top it all off, he says he's a _merchant_!"

"A merchant?" Will repeated slowly. "What—"

"He didn't look like a merchant to me!" Elizabeth cut him off, getting a bit red in the face.

"What did he look like?" Will demanded in that tone of voice that suggested he would go hunt this man down that very moment for frightening his wife.

"He looked like a pirate!" she said. "Certainly _smelled _like a pirate…"

"A pirate?" Will asked, sounding doubtful.

Elizabeth rounded on him. _"Will you **stop** repeating me!"_ she thundered, and regretted taking such a harsh tone when Will actually seemed to recoil away from her slightly. Inhaling deeply, she collapsed back onto the side of the bed. Will immediately sat down beside her. "I'm sorry, Will…it's just he scared the wits out of me. He had a pistol. If Mabel hadn't been there I don't know what I would have done…" Closing her eyes, she rested her head on her husband's shoulder.

He took her into his arms without another word.

"This whole thing is such a stress," she murmured into his shoulder.

Will ran one hand along her back while the other slipped into her hair and began removing the pins that kept it up.

"I'm just so worried, Will. For Jack. For you…"

With her hair falling freely down her shoulders, Will wrapped both his arms around his wife and leaned back onto the bed. They lay side by side wrapped in each other's embrace.

"When is it going to end, Will?" Elizabeth asked, her voice sounding suddenly small and tired.

Pressing his cheek into her hair, Will responded quietly. "Jack will be sailing to Tortuga in no later than three days time, love."

Elizabeth's eyes were closed but her brow still furrowed. "And what will he do then?"

Sighing, Will was unable to answer.

--

Will locked up his shop just after dawn the next morning, his wife still asleep at their home. He hoped that arriving early would allow him to return early and avoid having Elizabeth angry at him again. Sighing to himself, he tucked his satchel of tools under his arm and flipped the sign on his door until it read _Closed _in clear print. Then, pocketing his keys and turning, Will was surprised to find a man standing only a few feet from him and gazing at him intently.

He froze, speechless for a moment.

The man took a step forward, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're Mister Turner?" he asked then, quite bluntly.

Will's eyebrows shot up, and he took a moment to inspect the man. Not the most clean of fellows, with dirty, worn boots and breeches with patches sewn on them. His shirt was stained light brown, and his overcoat was in threads. He looked like a seaman, Will concluded to himself.

Then his eyes fell on the pistol tucked neatly into the man's belt. His mind went straight back to last night, over the conversation that Elizabeth and he had had.

"Yes," Will replied cautiously, his eyes moving discreetly down the street to either side. It was early enough that no one was about and most shops were still closed for the night.

The man took another step forward. "_William_ Turner?"

Tensing ever so slightly, Will replied slowly, "That would be me."

A smile curled on the man's lips. He gazed intently at Will.

"Good."

Will's grip on his satchel tightened, and he wished he had his sword with him. "You must be Mr…Drake?"

The man's smile widened. "So the bird did tell you, then?" he chuckled. "Yes, that would be _me_."

Wetting his lips discreetly, Will straightened himself. "Then I'm sure that my wife informed you that I'm not taking any orders this week."

"That, I had not heard," Drake replied with nonchalance, a small dagger appearing in his hands as if by magic. He began to pick under his fingernails with it. "However, fortunately, I am not here to place an order."

Will sucked in a breath, his eyes trained on the small weapon. "Then what do you want?" he asked stonily.

Drake's eyes seemed sly as he answered. "I'm under the impression that you know a man named John Smith? He's quite the rascal – often found hanging around in the gutters of Tortuga?"

Freezing, Will dared not react lest he give something away. Before he could reply, however, Drake continued.

"I would like very much if you would inform him that my captain is waiting just offshore, and would like the item that was stolen from him returned by high moon tomorrow…" he broke off with a sneer. "Tell him he must do this, or my captain will not hesitate to…_use force._"

Will had no time to even deny knowing this _John Smith _before Drake had whirled and left, disappearing behind a corner. He stood there for another moment or two before air rushed back into his lungs and felt a bit chilled. Then, he rubbed his hand over his face, almost tiredly.

_Jack, what have you gotten yourself into?_ he wondered.

--

"Now, are you _positive_ you weren't followed?"

Will gave Jack a flat look. "Yes, Jack. If anyone tried to follow me I would have known."

Jack blinked. "As long as you're sure."

"I'm _positive,_" Will replied.

They were huddled on the beach with Gibbs near by and the rest of the crew already hard at work on repairs. The black ship was looking better than it had several days ago – no longer a decrepit skeleton but more so a half-decayed corpse. A half-decayed corpse-ship that Jack was almost defiantly adamant would stay afloat until he reached Tortuga.

"Ah, then no worries, Will." Jack smiled and turned away, already heading down the beach towards his _Pearl._

Sighing to himself, Will started after Jack. He caught Gibbs's eye and the older man gave a hopeless shrug. In Jack's step was an unmistakable sway that only served to annoy Will. Catching Jack by the arm, Will whirled the pirate around to face him. Any indignant retort died on Jack's lips as saw the dark look on Will's face. He did not seem amused – rather, he looked frustrated and worried.

"Is that all, Jack?" Will asked lowly.

Jack didn't reply, but cast a pointed look at the hand that still clutched his arm. Will released him, but refused to back down.

Dusting off his sleeve slightly, Jack made a motion of casual indifference. "Well, that should be all, considering that you're positive the little bugger didn't follow you," he told the blacksmith.

Arching a brow, Will crossed his arms. "Did you not hear me when I told you what Drake said?" he demanded. "His captain – Hugh, I presume - wants you to return _what was stolen from him – _I can only guess that's your precious little map – _or he will use_ _force_! Now, I don't know about you, Jack, but that sounds an awful lot like _violence_!"

Jack seemed to ponder Will's interpretation.

"_Possibly,_" he agreed finally.

Will looked triumphant.

But Jack wasn't beaten so easily, and held up a finger. "But what you fail to realize, Mister Turner, is that Hugh Vanderveer hasn't a bloody clue as to where I am." He smiled disarmingly at the agitated man. "_That_ is why he's using threats. Threats are just that – _threats! _Threats that by no means will be carried out. And do you want to know why?" he cast Will a devious look. "_First, _and already stated, the man has no idea where I am. I might as well not be on this island, with all the luck he's having trying to find us. And second, he wouldn't dare '_use force'_ in the first place, because good old Commodore Norrington is sitting up in his fort watching over his waters like a jealous wife. _And, _he's got his whole army of marines to do as he wishes, as well as naval ships, cannons, swords, and lots and _lots_ of firepower." Pausing, Jack gave Will and pointed look. "Now, do I have a reason to dwell further on this issue?"

Will stood back, silent.

"Thought not," Jack muttered, and turned away with a flourish.

Will closed his eyes in defeat for a moment and gathered himself. It didn't work, of course. He only served to frustrate himself and perhaps anger the pirate captain. But he was convinced that Drake's threats should not be taken as lightly as Jack was willing to. He opened his eyes to watch Jack swagger away, clearly unconcerned. Pursing his lips and steeling himself, Will followed.

"That doesn't change the fact that Dominicus Drake, known pirate, _walked _into Port Royal, knocked on the door of my smithy and damn near frightened my wife and Mabel to death!" he shouted after the pirate captain, who hesitated just the slightest in step.

He turned.

They faced each other again as Will neared. Both were unaware of the curious stares their argument was receiving from the crew, as the men stopped working to watch these two forces wager their wills over each other.

Will was near enough to see Jack's narrowed eyes. "You failed to mention that before," he declared, the slur all but gone from his voice.

"You didn't give me the chance," was Will's biting reply.

Jack raised his chin. "Then tell me now."

Will's eyes glinted slightly as he retold what Elizabeth had said to him. "It was yesterday. Elizabeth and Mabel were in my shop – I'd been concerned that dust had been gathering on my tools while I had been away helping you, so Elizabeth volunteered to dust out the smithy for me. I didn't stop her, and she invited Mabel along for company. They were cleaning when he knocked on the door. Apparently, Drake wanted to know where I was. Elizabeth told him that I was out delivering orders and wouldn't be back for some time, but he insisted that he talk to me. He was carrying a gun, Jack, and this morning he had a dagger as well. If Royce hadn't been there with Mabel, I'm very sure he would have forced himself into my shop and…" he stopped, the muscles in his jaw clenching. "Mabel told him off – with help from Royce, I'm sure, and they locked the door."

Jack was silent for a moment. "He wouldn't have done anything to them," he said after a moment.

Will glared at him. "Are you so sure, Jack?"

The pirate was still. "He wanted to scare them – but most of all he wanted to find you. And if you weren't there then why would he hang around?" he reasoned smoothly.

But Will wasn't convinced. "He's a pirate, Jack. They don't play by the rules," he told Jack scathingly.

Jack eyed will a moment. "Then I suggest you make sure your wifey stays close to home, Mister Turner," he drawled out in a manner that made very apparent he was displeased.

"I refuse to have my family dragged into this mess, Jack," Will reiterated fiercely.

Jack regarded him once more with dark, unreadable eyes, before he turned to leave. "If you didn't want Elizabeth involved you ought not to have consorted with pirates, Mister Turner!" he called back over his shoulder as he walked away.

Will watched him go, this time not following. There was a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach – there since the night before – and now it only grew.

--

The carriage jostled and bumped to an abrupt stop in front of the Commodore's residence and the door swung open just as quickly. Immediately, there was a startled gasp from inside.

"Oh my goodness gracious, would you look at that!"

"Oh my…"

"Has he outdone himself, Joyce?"

"It's more beautiful that I could ever have imagined, Mabel," Joyce replied as she marvelled at the sight the open door revealed.

The gates to the Commodore's house were thrown open in welcome, and the people mingled along the walkway that led to the house. It was lit up like midday in the fading afternoon light. Hundreds of paper lanterns hung along the path, each giving off a warm golden glow to the surrounding bushes and flowers. They paled in comparison, however, to the many lanterns that had been strung up along the front of the house, running in long lines and across balconies. The steps up to the front door were lined with light and each window of the house seemed to be emanating golden light. Celebratory light. Joyce grinned.

"Miss?" a polite voice enquired and she looked down to see a smartly dressed man waiting to help her from the carriage. She gave him one hand while she held her skirts with the other, and stepped down to the ground feeling every bit like a princess.

Her mother was next, the door giving her voluminous dress some trouble. She fought with the fabric and it submitted, allowing her to step down onto the street.

Joyce hovered as the man helped Mabel down, but the blind woman had no troubles with her modest dress.

"Come along!" Eleanor hurried them, excitement evident even in her voice.

Joyce took Mabel's arm and led her forward. Their mother had refused to let Mabel take her cane, insisting that it ruined the look of her elegant dress. Mabel was somewhat irked to realize how much she had come to depend on the thing in the small amount of time since her sister gave it to her.

They passed through the gates, and behind them, the carriage bounced off to let another one in.

"What does it look like?" Mabel asked curiously as they made their way down the walkway. She heard their mother greeting people as they passed.

Joyce leaned in close. "There's lanterns everywhere, Mabel. The paper kind that mother had imported from India, remember those? And they're everywhere, Mabel. It looks like a palace…" she trailed off with an audible sigh.

"Soon to be yours," Mabel murmured with a smile.

Joyce's only reply was a dreamy sigh.

Together, the three of them made their way up the front steps and stepped into the house, Joyce holding Mabel's arm the whole while.

"Even the foyer is beautiful," Eleanor remarked approvingly.

A man stepped up to them before either could reply.

"Lady Browning, Miss Joyce and Miss Mabel, I welcome you to James Norrington's home. I am Jonson, head butler of the house. If you would please follow me to the ballroom…"

"Thank you, Jonson," Eleanor said, and Joyce tugged Mabel forward. Eleanor leaned in towards her daughters and spoke lowly. "I admire a man who's got his staff whipped into shape."

Joyce stifled a laugh at the remark and followed the butler, waiting occasionally for their mother, who seemed occupied in greeting various people as they went from room to room. The common rooms were filled with people, men smoking cigars and circles of young girls giggling away in corners. Mabel wondered if most of Port Royal had been invited, because it certainly sounded that way.

They were stopped shortly just outside what Mabel realized was the drawing room. The music originated there, and Mabel tried to imagine the couples dancing.

"If you would wait here a moment I will inform Commodore Norrington of your arrival," Jonson said, and slipped away from them.

Mabel smiled. "I have the feeling he was speaking only to you, Joyce," she ribbed her sister, who did not respond.

"He must have hired the finest musicians in the Caribbean. Fine musicians to play fine music," she mused. "Do you suppose he had them brought in from England?"

Eleanor hushed abruptly and Mabel could have sworn she knew it to be Commodore from the presence that seemed to surround him. It was stately, yet calm. The very air seemed to stand to attention as he stepped into the room.

"Eleanor," he greeted their mother first in a deep, smooth voice that Mabel hadn't been expecting. She also hadn't expected him to use their mother's name! That honour was usually reserved for very close friends. When had they the time to become so close?

"James, it's wonderful to see you again," Eleanor greeted him graciously, "And might I say that you have a very impressive home."

He thanked her politely, and to Mabel's surprise skipped over her sister and greeted her next.

"And you must be Mabel," he said, and she barely had time to raise her hand before he took it and kissed it lightly, surprising her yet again. The last man who'd one that to her was a suitor seven years ago.

"Commodore," she managed to find her voice. "Lovely to meet you finally. I've heard great things." She managed a smile.

"Thank you, but the pleasure is mine. Joyce speaks of you almost non-stop, but I'm afraid her description of your beauty doesn't do you justice."

Mabel just barely managed to contain her blush. Thankfully, his attention was now on her sister.

"James, it's wonderful," Joyce spoke in a breathy voice that made Mabel think she was about to faint.

"All for you," he answered effortlessly. "I shall take you for a walk in the gardens after we greet some guests. Some dear friends of mine have been asking for you."

And then, it seemed to Mabel, they were gone through the doorway and she was left standing with her mother. The music faded as Jonson gave a dainty cough and began speaking.

"Presenting Commodore James Norrington and his fiancée Mademoiselle Joyce Browning!"

Polite clapping ensued as the band started up again, playing a regal tune as Mabel imagined them stepping hand in hand to the dance floor.

Beside her, her mother slipped their arms together. "Charming, isn't he?" she whispered triumphantly into her daughter's ear, barely audible over the orchestra band.

Mabel just barely nodded as Jonson appeared once more and beckoned them to enter before bowing deeply and disappearing.

Not too much later Mabel had come to the conclusion that the Commodore's common room, tonight dubbed the ballroom, was about the side of her backyard garden. His house was massive, and every room seemed to be crammed full of people. The doors were thrown open throughout the house, so the music could be heard whether one was in the lounge or by the refreshments.

The drawing room was reserved for dancers, and clusters of seats lined the walls. Men and women mingled in groups around windows and small balconies, all the while chatting idly and watching the dancers while sipping at expensive wine.

Mabel and her mother had made a round of the house together, Eleanor introducing her to people she may or may not have known and gossiping with them while she was at it. Once the first round was done, however, Mabel found herself on her own. Quite on her own. Alone in a house full of strangers. She'd never felt so naked without her cane, and she tried not to look too obvious by groping around at the walls lest she accidentally grab a hold of some poor person. She wandered for quite some time, stumbling into a seating room that housed groups of chatting people and by the smell of it – men puffing avidly on pipes. It was here that she was offered a glass of wine, and she took it gratefully and managed to escape a large group of women who were gossiping fiercely in the corner. It was with relief that she made it back into the common room.

It was about this time that she realized quite suddenly that she wasn't too fond of large crowds. The type that she was stuck in at that very moment. For one, there were positively too many people – most of which she did not know. And for another, it was near impossible to find someone she _did _know on account of the sheer numbers of bodies occupying every inch of the house.

Rather than wander any longer, Mabel managed to find the doors to a small balcony and slipped out of the room and into the night air. Stepping forward, she felt discreetly with her hands until they touched the railing, and she leaned heavily the stone with relief. Breathing in the cool night made her realize how stuffy it was inside, and how uncomfortable her dress was becoming. It also reminded her that she would never be made for such lavish balls.

Mabel sighed to herself and was content to listen to the music from the safety of outside and let the smell of flowers and chirping of crickets keep her company.

The scuffing of boots on the floor alerted her to the presence of someone behind her.

"Miss Browning?" a voice inquired from the open doors.

Mabel realized who had found her. "Commodore, the ball is lovely," she told him politely as she turned around. She wondered what he was doing here and not with her sister.

"Yes," he replied slowly, then paused. "Which leads me to wonder what you are doing out here?"

The question wasn't scolding, merely curious. Mabel decided to sate the man's curiosity.

"I'm afraid, Commodore, that the heat was rather getting to me," she lied easily, fanning herself for emphasis. She heard him step up until he was standing beside her, leaning on the railing as she was. He smelled of leather and shoe polish and a hint of some exotic perfume.

"If we're going to be related in a few short weeks I have to insist that you call me James," he said then, his voice somewhat wry.

Mabel smiled at him. "Well then, James, may I inquire as to what you're doing out here when you should be dancing with your bride to be?"

She thought she heard him chuckle slightly, but there was laughing from inside and she could have been mistaken. "I've had enough dances with your sister to satisfy her for the hour, I think, and enough to satisfy all of Port Royal's elite in the way of gossip for at least a week," he told her humorously. "I haven't however, had the chance to dance with my bride's sister."

Surprised, Mabel let out a high laugh. "Com-_James, _surely my sister has told you that I'm not much of a dancer?"

"No. In fact, she told me that you loved dancing very much."

She heard the smile in his voice.

"Did she?" Mabel murmured, pondering her situation for a moment. "Well, I suppose _one _dance will do…if you insist."

"I do insist," he intoned. "One dance would indeed satisfy me."

Mabel stood and listened to their silence for another moment before nodding slightly and stepping away from the railing. "James, I must warn you that I have two left feet and haven't danced with a man since I was twenty," she confessed to him bluntly.

Smoothly, the Commodore linked his arm with hers. "That is no worry, Mabel, as I happened to be one of the best dancers in the room and I swear to teach you every step I know," he pledged to her as they entered the room once more.

Mabel fought back her smile. "Was that a hint of bragging, good Commodore?" she queried boldly. The music and murmur of people enveloped her as he led her further from her safety and into the middle of the room. "And are you so sure you can teach me to dance in just one song?"

She was somewhat surprised as he let go of her arm to grasp her gently by the shoulders. Then, taking her one hand in his own, he instructed her to place her other on his shoulder.

She did so, and he began to coach her as other dancers twirled on around them, skirts brushing past her and music flowing through her.

"Now, face a bit more to the right – that's it," he went on. "Straighten your shoulders slightly. Relax your arms and bend your elbows a slight more. There, now keep straight and I lead…" he declared just as the instruments quieted. As if on cue, a mandolin sighed and another song began.

Mabel was ushered into motion, her first few steps clumsy, but James's hands urged her forward with him. He murmured the step count lightly under his breath until Mabel's feet began to cooperate with her.

"Just follow me," he told her, and Mabel was amazed to realize that she was actually dancing – twirling slowly around the floor as other couples did the same all around them. She could feel the music in her toes, in her feet, and she followed James's lead with a slightly smile on her face.

"You're doing well," he said as she began to step without hesitation.

Mabel barely managed to keep a snort in. "Easy for you to say," she uttered dryly, nearly missing a step in the process. "I don't have to see to know everyone's eyes are on me. I can almost feel them boring into my back!"

James laughed. "Well, Mrs Amcotts has been giving you a rather funny look," he observed, and swung her around in a tight circle to avoid another dancing pair.

Clutching him tighter, Mabel huffed. "That old bag? She'll be gossiping about a secret love affair we're having right under my sister's nose by this time tomorrow."

"I would rather bet she's already gotten started on it now," he replied drolly.

Mabel smiled. "You're a much more interesting man that I would have thought, Commodore," she admitted.

"Is that so?" he hummed, sounding somewhat uncomfortable all of a sudden.

And Mabel continued, telling herself turnabout was fair play. It was only right that she make the Commodore properly uncomfortable after feeling so scrutinized when they'd stepped on the dance floor. "Yes. I had it in my mind that you would be a stuck up snob – pardon my tongue – but you're actually rather pleasant. More pleasant than my brother, I must say, who speaks of nothing else but of ships and swords and cannons and war tactics. Goodness, I do feel sorry for his wife," she muttered mostly to herself.

"Shall I take that as a compliment?" he asked her ruefully.

Mabel laughed. "Well, certainly don't take it for an insult! I would certainly get a lecture from my sister if I offended you!"

"I shan't say a word, then," he replied, and Mabel laughed merrily.

She was struck with the realization that she rather enjoyed dancing – not at first, of course, when she was all too aware of everyone's eyes on her. But as the music had started and she'd gotten used to the steps and managed to trust Norrington enough to led him lead her blindly through a throng of other dancers, she found that she enjoyed herself.

In fact, it ended far too soon and too quickly was she curtseying politely to her partner before he led her off the floor. She thought she heard the distant sound of polite applause, and with some reluctance, she hooked her arm through James's once more.

One dance, just as promised, she reminded herself.

--

Midst the shadows of night, several figures huddled in darkness. From their viewpoint, they could clearly see in several of the windows and therefore had quite a good view of the festivities inside.

"How long do ye figure we're gonna sit out here for?" a man's voice broke the group's silence.

"For as long as it takes," a second grumbled.

"How long do you suppose that'll be?" the first asked.

The second snorted. "Not much longer for me, I tell you. My arse is starting to go numb."

"Shut up, the both of you," the third hissed. "We're here on the Captain's orders."

"And where's the Captain?" the second griped.

"He's keeping an eye on things," was the short answer.

The first man shifted slightly. "I thought that was our job?"

"At the moment, ye idiots," the third ground out, "It's everybody's damned job."

Silence reigned over the party for a moment.

"I wish I could dance like that," the first stated, sounding somewhat forlorn.

"Shut up."

"What time do you figure it is?"

The second shifted. "What does it matter?"

"Well, 'cause we got sent up here before sup was ready, and I'm getting rather famished."

"Shut up, the both of you!" the third hissed suddenly. "I saw something in the shadows!"

"Is it the Cap'n?" came a hushed question.

"No…t'was something else…"

--

Mabel felt strangely giddy as the Commodore led her off the dance floor. Another song began and attention seemed to shift away from the pair. Almost immediately, they were met by Joyce.

"You two were fantastic!" she exclaimed excitedly. "James, did you see! Everyone's eyes were on you two the whole dance! I would have fainted with all the attention! Mabel, I'm so proud – mother was so delighted! You should have heard her bragging to the ladies, it was precious!"

Mabel unwound her arm from James' and placed her hands on her hips. "I haven't been that uncomfortable since Tomas Winfrey insisted we do the minuet at mother's Easter banquet, Joyce. You should be rather ashamed of yourself," she told her sister in a very stately manner.

Joyce was unaffected. "Don't you lie to me! I saw the smile on your face! Am I right, James?"

But before the Commodore could answer, they were joined by two others.

"And don't I recall you saying you didn't dance?" Will's teasing voice stated.

"And James, how did you convince her to do it?" Elizabeth laughed, standing beside her husband.

James cleared his throat. "Oh, I assure you there was an amount of blackmail involved," he stated placidly, and Mabel couldn't help but grin. "However, Mabel must have felt sorry for me because she agreed to a dance to appease her sister."

Joyce cried out in indignation. "James! You terrible man! I did no such thing! Now I insist that you get us something to drink – my throat is absolutely parched!" And she continued to talk as she pulled the Commodore away from the group.

Elizabeth was the first the laugh. "Was that I joke I just heard coming from James's mouth?" she asked in astonishment.

"I think it was," Will answered, sounding amused.

Mabel's brow furrowed slightly. "Am I to take it that he hasn't usually such a good humour?"

"Not when we knew him," Elizabeth murmured lowly, just as Eleanor's voice cried out from very close by.

"Mabel, darling! I have someone I'd like you to meet!"

She cringed slightly at the sheer volume of her mother's voice, but put on a smile nonetheless and tried to look amiable.

"Mr and Mrs Turner, wonderful to see you," Eleanor greeted the pair quickly before her attention focused completely on her eldest daughter. "Mabel, this is Henry Morris. He owns the plantation just down the road from us, you remember it?"

Deftly, Mabel offered the man her hand and inclined her head slightly.

"Hello!" he greeted her loudly. "Miss Browning, I would like to say how lovely you looked out on the dance floor! It was truly an enchanting sight!" He enunciated each word clearly and slowly as if he were speaking to a child – or a dog.

Mabel winced slightly at the pitch of his voice, but didn't have a chance to answer.

"Mr Morris," Elizabeth interrupted smoothly. "I'm sure Mabel is delighted to hear your compliment, but I feel the need to remind you that she is _blind, _not deaf."

Mabel heard Mr Morris make a choking sound. She smiled politely.

"And I'm also not a mute," she added, and smiled at who she hoped was Mr Morris. "It's very nice to meet you, Mr Morris. And yes, I do know of your plantation. Your staff once tried to shoot my dog when he accidentally strayed from our property onto yours." Then, giving the man a polite but stiff smile, she turned and left the group just in time to hear Eleanor's cry of dismay and Mr Morris stuttering out a reply.

Elizabeth caught up with her. "I can't believe you said that," she admonished in disbelief.

Mabel sighed. "Elizabeth, I'm nearing my thirtieth year and could rightly be considered an old maid. My mother, however, is obviously still hoping to unload me off on some poor, unsuspecting man! She did this when Thomas was married four years ago, as well! Eleanor Browning is still harbouring some mislead hope that her eldest daughter will one day be married to a fine man." She laughed, shaking her head. "Honestly!" she cried in exasperation.

Elizabeth as silent for a moment. "Well, perhaps one day…" she trailed off as if unsure that she wanted to finish her sentence.

Mabel shook her head firmly. "I was a lost cause since the day I was born, Elizabeth." She paused. "But enough of that. I'm getting rather thirsty."

Elizabeth was somewhat thankful for the change of subject and happily led Mabel to the refreshment table where two glasses of wine were procured and they stood off to the side sipping at it while Elizabeth narrated ill-mannered comments about passing people in Mabel's ear.

"Oh! Elizabeth!" a man interrupted the two women.

"Father!" Elizabeth exclaimed happily.

"Thank goodness I've found you!" he said in a very relieved way. Then, in lower, breathless tones, said, "I'm afraid Lady Bracknell is trying to _engage_ me again." He gave a polite cough. "Now, you must introduce me to your lady friend!"

"Of course, you must meet Mabel!" Elizabeth cooed, gripping Mabel's arm slightly. "Father, this is Mabel Browning, the one I've been telling you about - the bride's sister. And Mabel, this is my father, Governor Swann."

Mabel dipped a small curtsey and the Governor took her hand.

"I'm delighted to finally meet you, Miss Browning. Elizabeth speaks very highly of you."

Smiling, Mabel decided that she rather liked the Governor. "That pleasure would be mine, sir. I'm very glad to meet you."

He chuckled slightly. "I spotted you dancing with the Commodore," he stated. "And I must say your form was very good."

Beside Mabel, Elizabeth barely managed to contain a snort of laughter. "Father, must you make everything sound so…military?"

"Well, Commodore Norrington's form was excellent as well," the Governor responded, sounding somewhat baffled. "Good form is essential to good dancing."

Mabel thought that he sounded rather like her mother at that moment, and forced herself not to crack a smile. "Thank you, Governor. I must admit, however, that I haven't danced in many years. I wouldn't have danced so well if the Commodore hadn't been telling me where to put my feet every other moment."

"Well, it was spectacular nonetheless," the Governor said. "And now, if you would excuse me, Elizabeth, Miss Browning, Ah…Mrs Faulkton is waving me over…"

Once Elizabeth's father was out of sight, she burst into giggles. "You must excuse him. Miss Bracknell has been perusing my father for the last month. He's getting rather edgy about it," she revealed humorously. "I'm not so sure he was certain how to act around you, Mabel."

Mabel took a sip of her drink. "He was charming."

Elizabeth stifled a laugh in her drink. "You're very kind—" she started, but was cut off abruptly by Mabel.

"What was that?" Mabel asked, cocking her head slightly.

Elizabeth stilled. "What was what?"

Frowning, Mabel stood in silence for a moment. Over the sound of music and chattering, she could have sworn that she'd heard…

"That! Right then!" she shouted. "Did you not hear it?"

Elizabeth was silent.

Off in the distance and clearly coming from outside was a thundering sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the house.

Elizabeth gave a start. "What in the world…" she trailed off as another rumble was heard, but this time much closer.

The rest of the room seemed to have heard it as well, as conversation fell silent quite suddenly and the orchestra slowly abandoned their instruments and fell silent. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something to happen, huddled in a hushed silence. A shiver ran down Mabel's spine.

"That sounded like cannon fire," Elizabeth stated eerily. She grasped hold of Mabel's hand and began to pull her away from the dining room and back into the common room full of dancers.

"Where are we going?" Mabel asked, feeling suddenly very ill at ease.

Elizabeth ignored her question. "It can't be…" she murmured to herself.

But the common room had fallen into a discontented silence, suspicious whispers escaping people's lips. Mabel felt Elizabeth clutch at her arm at the same moment that a loud _boom_ rumbled above them. Above them, something creaked terribly.

"The chandelier!" Elizabeth cried, stumbling back and pulling Mabel with her.

Moments later, there were screams as something came shattering thunderously to the ground.

Mabel barely heard Elizabeth cry out over the panic that suddenly gripped the room. Its self-assurance snapped and twisted violently, and they were plunged into chaos. People fled, she heard – their shoes clapping against the floor in a dizzying staccato that couldn't drown out cries and shouts of dismay. She felt as though she was trapped in a room full of thunder.

"I have to find Will!" Elizabeth shouted over the noise. "Mabel! We have to leave!"

She didn't fight as she was pulled along, unwilling to get lost in such a situation.

"_What's happening?"_ she demanded as Elizabeth pulled her from the room.

"Someone is firing upon the town!"

--

Will had not been dancing when the chandelier had fallen, but he'd watched it's decent to the ground with a shocked dread. People fled from the centre of the room like a giant wave, tripping over themselves and others in the process.

Only when the next shot boomed outside did Will realize what was truly happening. His eyes combed the room for any sight of Elizabeth, but in doing so, he realized she was smarter than to stay in this midst of chaos. So, like many other guests, he fled the common room, all the while his eyes searching frantically for any sight of his wife.

The scene that met him, however, froze him to his spot.

Screams filled his ears as fleeing people were met with more danger. Men, looking suspiciously like pirates, had invaded the house, wielding weapons and torches. They blocked the exits.

Before he could get caught up in the fight, Will turned and retraced his steps, racing back towards the ballroom. He rounded the last corner in the corridor, however, only to be met with a massacre. Several men stood over the bodies of what looked to be three marines, dressed in their finest. One man with a sword just finished running through his last opponent before he turned and spotted Will.

He turned to nod quickly at the other men, who nodded back before taking off further into the house. The remaining attacker advanced forward with a sneering grin. Will suddenly had a chilling feeling that this was no ordinary raid. His hand almost went to his side, but then he remembered he had no sword. Backing up, he searched frantically for some sort of weapon. The first thing he found was an ornate vase sitting atop a small stand with white flowers sprouting from it. Snatching it up, he discarded the flowers onto the floor (as well as a good deal of water) and faced the remaining man.

Will dodged backwards from the first swipe, but the second lunge made him stumble backwards. With more luck than anything, Will's attempt to protect himself ended up catching the sword in the vase. They froze for a moment, until Will's grip slackened on the vase. He had intended to run at that very moment, but as he turned, the man swung his sword – vase intact – and hit him square on the back of the head.

Will went down in a daze amidst broken pieces of porcelain. He waited for the inevitable final strike to hit him in the back, and was somewhat surprised when it never came. Dizzily, he recognized the sounds of swords clashing, and forced himself to roll onto his back. His vision was blurred, but he looked just in time to see someone who was locked with his opponent kick him square in the stomach. The man went stumbled back into the wall, stunned. A blow to the side of his head sent him sprawling to the floor, unmoving.

Will blinked curiously, trying to clear his vision. His saviour wasn't dressed in finery – in fact, it was very much the opposite. He turned, and Will balked in surprise.

"_Jack?"_

Said pirate swayed slightly on his feet, holding up a finger. "_Captain_."

Shaking his head, Will attempted to stand, but held his head as a wave of pain hit him. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, sitting back down.

Pausing, the pirate offered a disarming smile. "Enjoying the party?"

Will frowned. "You _knew_ this was going to happen!" he accused fiercely.

Jack grinned, dark eyes alight. "Just a feeling, Will." He stepped forward to offer a dirty hand.

Swallowing his pride and taking it, Will allowed the pirate to pull him to his feet. Immediately, the pounding in his head increased tenfold. He could feel his pulse in the back of his head and he lifted a hand to feel where he'd been struck; his hand came away with blood.

Jack was staring at him intently.

"Is it Hugh?" Will asked, ignoring him and wiping the blood on his pants.

Nodding, Jack replied. "He's sailed into harbour an' I suspect he's ordered all his crew to pay Norry a visit."

Will's head swum. "Why attack the town? Why the Commodore's house?"

Jack looked grim. "I suspect he's got his eye on you," he said cautiously. "He's got it in his head that having you will lead him to me."

Fear settled deep in Will's stomach. "I have to find Elizabeth!"

Jack placed a hand on his arm before he could run off. Will regarded him angrily.

"Aren't you thankful I've got _this_, then?" the pirate said cheekily, holding a sword in his other hand.

Will's eyes strayed to where Jack's own sword was sheathed at his side before taking the proffered weapon.

"Thanks, Jack," he said, and then paused. "Perhaps you should get out of here. Hugh's goal is to find _you, _after all."

Jack considered Will's words as he watched the younger man disappear around a corner. Then, patting his hat down just a bit more securely on his head, he turned and went in the other direction.

--

James burst into his study, dragging Joyce behind him. He went straight for his sword, waiting on the top of his desk, before letting his fiancé free from his grasp. Pirates were invading his house. The guests were trapped and terrified. The town was under fire – there was a pirate ship in his harbour, he'd been told. The Commodore was angry – infuriated, even – and there was little he could do about the situation.

"What's going on?" Joyce demanded from beside him.

James shed his confining coat, tossing it onto his desk. "Pirates," he responded shortly, and flung open a drawer in the desk to reveal two ornate pistols. He held one out to her. "Take it, and whatever you do, don't leave this room."

She was staring up at him with shining eyes as she took the weapon. "You're going back out there?"

"I will not have pirates beat me into submission in my own home!" he nearly snarled, but regretted his words as Joyce flinched slightly. He leaned down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. "Block the door with anything you can find. You will be safe," he told her firmly, and with that, turned to leave.

She grasped the sleeve of his shirt, forcing him to turn around.

"Be careful," she ordered him fiercely.

He didn't dare disobey.

--

Elizabeth was – quite begrudgingly – beginning to mourn the rather aggravating similarities between this scene and one that had happened no more than two years before.

Elizabeth and Mabel had been at the tail end of a group of men a women who had fled terrified through the house, pursued by pirates, and therefore had unfortunately been the ones forced to face them.

They had burst into the front foyer, hoping to escape through the doors, only to find they were blocked by the enemy. The next best thing, she figured, were the stairs, and she had dragged Mabel with her as they sprinted for the steps. She had spotted a ceremonial suit of armour standing off to side in a nook, metal gloves clasped over the hilt of a ceremonial sword.

Ceremonial was better than nothing, and she urged Mabel in the direction of the stairs as she went for the sword. She knocked the whole suit over in the process, of course, and the metal pieces clanging loudly against the stone floor. The men advanced.

The sword was much heavier than she'd ever imagined, and she could barely wield it in the air. Nonetheless, Elizabeth had whirled with it in hand just in time to meet the cutlass meant for her back. The force of the swing set the man's weapon sailing.

She'd stumbled backwards, trying to remember anything that Will had taught and told her about swordplay. Instead, she'd planted her shoe firmly in the man's middle sending him tumbling into several others and snapping the small heel on her shoe in the process.

"Elizabeth!" came Mabel's distressed cry from the stairs.

Elizabeth stumbled, spinning clumsily around to see with dismay that the people they had been fleeing with had indeed fled. Quite completely. And a pirate had slipped past her and grabbed hold of the blind woman as she'd tried to ascend the stairs.

Rather irritated by now, Elizabeth charged for the stairs. The pirate, seeing her coming, swiftly had a dagger at Mabel's throat.

Elizabeth froze. "Let her go!" she demanded, sword in hand. Her arm shook with the effort.

"Strong words for such a little lady," he sneered back at her. "Drop yer weapon!"

"I refuse!"

A chorus of shouts from below startled them both. Staring in surprise, Elizabeth watched as ten or so scruffy men came bursting through the front door, weapons raised in challenge.

"_Jack's crew!"_ she exclaimed to herself in a harsh whisper. She recognized their dirty and sunburnt faces and could have laughed with joy.

They charged forward, meeting the opposing pirates head on.

Elizabeth turned back to her opponent. She saw the dagger had drifted from Mabel's neck as he was distracted and took her chance, swinging the heavy weapon. She didn't have the guts to slice into him, but slammed him in the head with the flat of her sword. Unconscious, he fell sideways onto the banister, nearly taking Mabel with him. Elizabeth rushed forward and shoved him over the edge and to the floor below.

--

"No, no, _no_! Not good!" Jack muttered to himself as he stood in the Commodore's garden, the exact place where he had left several of his crew hours before with specific instructions.

"I said bloody well _watch! _Keep a bloody_ eye out! _Report to the bloody _Captain_!"

He whirled around to face the house, lit up with lanterns and now alive with chaos. Gunfire, swordfights. He didn't doubt that marines would be crawling all over the place within minutes. And then where would his unruly crew be?

"Waiting for the bloody hangman's noose!" he shouted angrily, answering his own question.

Cannon fire echoed in the harbour below. He imagined that the town was in chaos about now. Captain Hugh's raid was in full swing – a terrifying success.

"Not my bloody problem!" he growled to the night air.

_Then why, _asked a slurred voice in his mind, _were you so determined to keep an eye out for trouble tonight?_

Because he'd known! Ever since Will had confronted him the day before, he'd had that niggling in the back of his head that refused to let him sleep. Conscience, he supposed.

One that refused to let him leave without his crew.

In a frustrated huff, the pirate Captain tore his sword from its sheath and stalked back towards the house, muttering obscenities under his breath and cursing his men for getting him into such a mess.

--

Realizing they had competition, most the men abandoned the stairs to go after Jack's crew. However, Elizabeth was caught completely unawares when she was grabbed from behind, dirty hands tearing the sword away from her. She shrieked just before a grubby hand clamped down on her mouth, stifling her protests. Along with Mabel, she was dragged struggling down the stairs.

The two women were pulled away from the battle, away from the front doors and away from freedom. They moved deeper into the house. Elizabeth howled under the man's hand, fear shooting through her. Fighting for all she was worth, she managed to jab her captor several times with her elbow and stomp on his foot, but he only hauled her off her feet.

She fell back down almost immediately as the man's grip on her slackened and he fell forward. She managed to stumble to the side and avoid being trapped beneath him, and looked up just in time to see the man holding Mabel howl in pain as a sword entered his side. He released Mabel and she was pulled into her rescuer's grasp.

"_Will_!" Elizabeth cried with relief, hauling herself up. The man who had been holding her was still with a pool of blood forming under his body.

"Will?" Mabel echoed a moment after, finding her feet and pulling away. She started slightly as Elizabeth's hand grasped hers.

"Where have you been? Why haven't you escaped?" Elizabeth demanded with wide eyes.

Her husband shook his head. "I would never leave you behind!" he told her earnestly, panting slightly.

It was then that Elizabeth saw the sword at his side and the slight trickle of blood running down the side of his neck.

"Will, you're hurt!" she exclaimed, grasping his shoulders.

He shook his head, dismissing her concern. "We have to get out of here."

Nodding somewhat hesitantly, Elizabeth turned to Mabel. She grasped the woman's arms. "We're leaving," she said in lower tones, hoping to calm the blind woman. She looked paler than death.

"About time," Mabel replied shakily, but with a weak smile.

Smiling in return, Elizabeth turned to follow Will, clutching Mabel's hand tightly. She stiffened and froze, however, as she saw the unexpected scene before her. Raw fear jolted through her and she suddenly felt very cold.

She wasn't sure how it had happened so quickly, but there was a knife at Will's throat and a pistol to his temple. He was breathing hard, and had a wild look in his eyes. Three men were needed to hold him, and a fourth was grinning at her. This man had his finger on the trigger of the pistol that was aimed at her head.

--

The majority of the Commodore's home was void of any life, Jack had noticed as he prowled the hallways. Minutes earlier, he had stumbled upon several maids who had shut themselves up in closet, and they had shrieked so loudly when they'd seen him that he did them a favour and locked the door from the outside. He had then fled the scene, opting to wander the house in the shadows. Will's advice to him was true, and Jack had every intention of getting out of the Commodore's home as soon as possible – but only if he could get his crew out as well.

Of course they'd rushed into a fight, Jack realized. They were pirates, for one, and their good friends Will and Elizabeth were inside a house under the siege of the enemy, for another. He couldn't expect them to _keep and eye on things, _because they wanted to be _in _the thick of things. Which was exactly where he _didn't_ want to be. There was nothing to do but try to lure them out of battle.

Jack vowed that as soon as he returned to camp there would be lashings aplenty.

And as long as he wasn't spotted, he was very sure that _something_ could be gained from this night of disasters.

Of course, that all changed when he rounded a corner and came face to face with three men with swords where were _not _part of his crew.

They all stared at each other for a moment or two before Jack acted. His sword was up in offence before they could blink, and his other hand rested on the pistol tucked in his belt. He swayed slightly on his feet.

"Jack Sparrow," one man said finally with a note of triumph, grinning crookedly.

"Aye," he affirmed immediately. "And who might you be?"

Ignoring him, the man nodded to his mates. "Cap'n will be mighty pleased."

Slowly, Jack removed his pistol from his belt. "No, I'm not. But I will be when you turn around and crawl back into whatever dark, dank and dirty hole you crawled out from," he replied glibly, aiming his pistol at the man who had spoken.

The man sneered. "I think not, Sparrow. Captain Hugh will be thrilled we managed to weed you out of your hiding place. We ain't goin' nowhere."

Making a sound of annoyance, Jack cocked the pistol and deftly pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the man square in the chest, killing him instantly or if not now certainly within minutes. He went down, and Jack slipped the gun back into his belt.

Jack wrinkled his nose at the cadaver. "Indeed, you're not," he muttered, then focused his attention back on the other two.

He was very pleased when both men backed away slightly.

Inclining his head slightly to the men, Jack sheathed his sword. "Now, I fully expect that as I turn my back to leave you will by no certain means try anything sneaky, deceitful or generally underhanded, because I wouldn't like that and I'd hate to dirty my sword with your blood." He glared at them both a moment, waiting for his words to sink in, before smiling slightly and swirling on his heel to leave.

He froze immediately in mid step, a disgruntled "Bugger," escaping his lips as he realized why the two men might have backed off so quickly.

Five or so marines were standing behind him, swords pointed at his back. And at the front of them was a very angry looking Commodore.

"Jack Sparrow!" he spat, his own sword raised to Jack's throat.

Jack was finding this very familiar and unpleasant. He tried to smile at the Commodore, but it failed as the tip of the sword jabbed at his Adam's apple.

"I suppose I should have foreseen your involvement in this," the Commodore sneered.

Raising his hands, Jack craned his neck away from the sword. "Actually…"

"Silence, Sparrow," the Commodore ordered. "You're crew is being rounded up as we speak. You will join them in the gaol." He tilted his head slightly to his marines. "The irons, men. Arrest the other two as well."

Jack's eyes darted from the marines to the sword at his throat before he took one smooth step backwards. His fingers grasped for the hilt of his own weapon and before the marines could react, he'd batted away the Commodore's sword with his own.

"Now, there is a perfectly good explanation for this, I assure you." Jack noticed the snarl on Norrington's face and the next moment was clumsily blocking a strike clearly meant for his neck.

"Commodore!" he shouted in protest and surprise.

"I have no need for explanations! Now surrender, Sparrow!" he commanded.

The remaining two pirates were backing away at this point, and Norrington swiftly shouted for his marines to arrest them. Then, he threw himself into a duel with the pirate Captain.

Deflecting a swing, Jack managed to get in a jab of his own. "Not bloody likely," he muttered to himself. Their swords met again, clanging shrilly. "This is a mistake, Commodore!"

Norrington snarled, backing his opponent towards the wall with surprising force. "My only mistake was when I failed to see this coming!" he responded.

Evading a stroke aimed at his midsection, Jack's back hit the wall. "This is a—" His eyes widened as the Commodore's sword met the wall just inches from his head, and he swiftly ducked away. "—A misunderstanding!" He whirled around just as the Commodore's weapon came free of the wall and he charged forward.

Quite suddenly, Jack found their swords locked in a battle of strength, each unwilling to let his opponent free. They glared at each other through the mesh of their weapons, and Jack noticed quite vaguely that his opponent's wig was off-centre and in terrible shape.

"There is no escape for you now, Sparrow," Norrington growled lowly between heaving breaths. There was a look of madness in his eyes.

Jack didn't realize how true those words were until something struck him hard on the head. His fingers didn't slacken on his sword, but his knees wobbled and crumpled as everything went hazy and faded to black.

--


End file.
